


The Broken Weapon

by Tchu-chan (Tchu_chan)



Series: The Broken Weapon Series [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:29:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 115,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28419906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tchu_chan/pseuds/Tchu-chan
Summary: Kakashi has been charged by the Hokage to unravel the mystery surrounding a beautiful jonin from his past. The sole survivor of a deadly mission, Soriya is embroiled on a hunt for a traitor. Confronted by old demons and desires, can Kakashi turn Soriya from the self-destructive path of revenge she walks in order to save her life? Citrusy goodness, light angst, HEA.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Original Female Character
Series: The Broken Weapon Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081535
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

Late afternoon sunlight streamed into the office of Hokage Tsunade, leader of the Hidden Leaf Village. A light breeze gusted through the open window, ruffling the papers scattered across the polished surface of her desk. A crimson-painted nail tapped the top sheet of the report.

“Soriya. You've successfully completed all of the mission objectives,” Tsunade paused, assessing the room's other occupant with shrewd amber eyes. Her pigtailed blonde head dipped slightly. “However...I sense you are dissatisfied.”

Silence. Then, a smooth feminine voice responded coolly, “It is finished. That is all that matters. Emiko and Kaito are avenged.”

“And you?” the Hokage asked, scrutinizing the young woman sitting in front of her desk. Dressed in a formfitting black bodysuit, the redheaded kunoichi sat silently, long legs crossed at the knee. The hands resting in her lap were still. The pale, heart-shaped face was composed, gray eyes flat and empty.

_Unnaturally so,_ Tsunade thought. It was apparent no reply was forthcoming.

“Soriya...the medic-nin have cleared you physically for duty, but due to your particular abilities, they are not entirely comfortable with your psychological state of mind.” Medically trained eyes raked over the redhead once more, but could detect no overt chakra leakage.

_But then, her control has always been exemplary. She never would have survived, otherwise._

Frown lines appeared between the Hokage's blonde brows. She told the kunoichi, not unkindly, “I've been advised to suspend you from further S- and A-class mission duty until such time as the psych-nin see fit to clear you. For now, I judge it best to follow their advice.”

Dark gray eyes met her gaze levelly, but the woman so addressed offered no comment. She might have been a statue carved from marble, so still did she sit. Even so, Tsunade perceived the slight tightening of the kunoichi's jaw.

“Do not think this reflects poorly on you in any way, Soriya. You have served the village consistently, with skill and valor. I am relieved you return to us alive. And I grieve for the loss of your teammates. As does the village.” The Hokage bowed her head.

Abruptly driven to her feet by the sympathetic words, Soriya rose and walked to the open window. Leaning against the frame, she stared down at the trees surrounding the Hokage's Tower, offering the older woman her profile. When she spoke, her response was measured, the smooth voice neutral in tone.

“As you will it, Hokage. I wish only to do my duty.”

Drifting clouds momentarily blotted out the sun, leaving the kunoichi's face in shadow. Tsunade blinked at the imagery.

_An omen of things to come?_ She fervently hoped not. She was almost startled when Soriya spoke again.

“Have you another task for me, Hokage? One that does not involve seduction or assassination?”

_Bitterness there. Though she controls it well. Almost too well, under the circumstances._

Tsunade pondered the woman's tall, slender form as it rested gracefully against the window frame. Crimson hair, caught up in a high ponytail, swung to the small of her back.

_She is truly lovely,_ Tsunade mused. Intelligent. Deadly. As were all the kunoichi.

_But is she broken now?_

The Hokage knew the two year infiltration and assassination mission had damaged the woman, mind, body, and spirit. The medic-nin had been able to heal the body—and, they hoped, the mind. But the spirit? Only time would tell.

“Actually, I do have a task for you. Talents such as yours cannot be squandered.” Tsunade braced herself mentally. “I want you to teach a chunin course. Two courses, actually.”

Surprised, Soriya's shoulders stiffened as she turned to stare at the Hokage. “Teach?” She paused, gray eyes narrowing slightly. “What subjects, I wonder?” A hint of sarcasm marred her voice, the first emotion she'd shown since the start of the interview.

Sharply, the Hokage snapped, “Soriya, I think this will be good for you—and for our upper level chunin. Especially the kunoichi. We need teachers able to convey practical knowledge. The kind that completes missions and saves lives.”

The redhead stared at her. _“Saves_ lives, huh?” Some emotion flickered in her eyes, but she turned away before Tsunade could name it. She barely heard the woman murmur softly, “Are you so certain you want _me_ as a teacher then?”

The Fifth Hokage observed her, then offered quietly, “You _are_ shinobi, Soriya. An assassin. A spy. But that is not _all_ that you are. What else is up to you to decide.”

Turning back, Soriya arched a dark red brow at the blonde woman, though her tense posture relaxed slightly.

“Huh. A teacher, you say?” Full lips curved slowly into a smile, although it didn't reach the woman's slate gray eyes. “Perhaps that does have some appeal after all. I could do with a different set of challenges.” She thought some more. “Two classes? Boys and girls separated, I presume?”

The Hokage inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

_Not so far gone that we've lost her after all._

“Of course,” was all she said.

XXX

“Hey, Naruto! Did you hear the news?” Kiba yelled, racing across the practice field, Akamaru bounding at his side. Excited to see familiar faces, the large white ninja hound barked an ear-splitting greeting.

Distracted by the noise, Naruto's blue eyes glanced toward the approaching duo for a split second. That moment was all Sasuke needed. Naruto flinched as the dull thud of the raven-haired Uchiha's sandaled foot connected heavily with his ribs.

“Aw, crap!” he hollered, flying off into the trees.

“Heh. Loser.” Sasuke smirked.

Their jonin sensei, Kakashi Hatake, commented idly from behind his book, “Watch out for that left foot.”

“Urgh,” the orange-and-black-clad blonde groaned, struggling to disentangle himself from the bushes while muttering something about Kiba and lousy timing. Once free, he snapped, “What d'ya want anyway, Kiba? Can't you see I was just getting ready to make Sasuke eat dirt?!”

“Ah, yeah, sorry about that,” Kiba shrugged apologetically, not sounding sorry at all. Naruto's fellow chunin wore his usual gray parka, the fur-lined hood thrown back as a concession to the warmth of early summer. Running a hand through messy brown hair, he rested the other on Akamaru's head.

“It's just, have you heard about the new class for upper level chunin? The sensei's a jonin recently returned to the village. Rumors say she was on undercover assignment for two years! She's going to teach 'Seduction and Assassination Techniques.' Sounds pretty interesting.”

“So?” Naruto shrugged. “I've already decided on my supplementary training and that's not on my list!”

Just then, Genma stepped out of the trees, ever-present senbon dangling from his lips. The handsome jonin winked, lips stretching into a broad grin.

“Maybe so, but you haven't seen Soriya-sensei yet, have you?” he pointed out. “If I were you, I'd take the class just so I could spend an hour ogling her perfect figure.” He made undulating motions in an hourglass shape with both hands. “Especially in those outfits she wears, eh, Kakashi?” The brunette shot the Copy Ninja a knowing grin. A favorite with the village's female population, Genma had a certain lecherous reputation amongst the shinobi.

Rolling his right eye, the sole orb visible from behind the slanted headband and lower mask covering his mouth and nose, Kakashi snorted, “Genma, you'd stare at a sack of potatoes if it had lumps in the right places.”

Undeterred, Genma countered, “Don't tell me you don't remember her? Soriya Kanzin?” At the blank look in his friend's dark eye, Genma conceded, “Well, I guess she went through the Academy several years after we graduated, but...damn, man! Long red hair, and those eyes...” Genma gestured at his own brown orbs. “And did I mention her perfect figure?” He snorted in disbelief. “How can you _not_ remember her? I swear, Kakashi, you need to get your nose out of those dirty books and look at real women once in awhile.”

“Thanks for the advice,” the Copy Ninja replied dryly, still holding the novel disparaged by Genma in his hand. He closed it resignedly, straightening up from the tree he'd been reclined against. “Why don't you tell me something useful? Like, what's all the fuss over this class she's teaching? It's pretty standard fare for kunoichi, though a bit late to add it to the schedule. Most chunin have already chosen their electives by now.” He nodded toward Naruto, Sasuke, and Kiba, who were listening intently.

“True,” Genma replied, “but the Hokage herself is _recommending,”_ he shaped quotation marks with his fingers, “all chunin kunoichi take the course. Sakura must be taking it. Ino and Hinata too. It's optional for the guys, but between you and me, I bet it'll fill up quick. Soriya's teaching 'Seduction and Assassination' for cryin' out loud! That means lots of talk about S-E-X, my favorite subject!” Genma rubbed his hands together excitedly. “I wonder if the exam is a practical? Makes me almost wish I were still chunin level.” He sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart.

Kakashi stood, returning the dubious reading material to the leather pouch at his waist. Tugging lightly at the hem of his olive green vest, he resettled the fabric over midnight blue shirt and pants. Running a hand through casually messy silver hair, he glanced at Naruto and Sasuke.

“Had enough practice for today? Maybe you can meet up with Sakura—see if she knows anything about this mysterious jonin. I have to admit, I'm kind of curious, since I can't seem to place her.”

_Which is odd, in itself._

“Okay, Boss. I was getting hungry anyway,” Naruto grinned. “Where is Sakura? At the hospital?”

“Yeah,” said Sasuke, tossing a farewell salute over his shoulder at Kakashi and Genma. The dark-eyed shinobi smirked at his best friend and rival. “Probably working with the Hokage on some new medical jutsu to put you back together again the next time I kick your ass. Loser.”

“Hey, you! Why I oughta—!” Naruto's outraged grumbling faded as he and the Uchiha moved off. Kiba and Akamaru followed resignedly, well used to such bickering between the two chunin.

“Well, now that they're gone,” said Kakashi, turning a speculative eye on his fellow jonin, “do you care to hypothesize why an obviously highly skilled deep-cover operative would compromise her anonymity by teaching a class full of hormone-raging chunin? Has the Hokage no plans to use her again?”

Suddenly serious, Genma answered, “I don't know, Kakashi, but I've heard some bad things about her last mission. Both of her teammates were killed; apparently, she almost died as well. Rumor has it she spent two months in the hospital, most of which involved being locked up in a rubber room with psych-nin.” The brown-haired ninja shuddered, imagining such a fate. “I heard Psych won't clear her for high level mission duty. Maybe the Hokage asked her to do this, instead of giving her a desk job. Tsunade can be fairly persuasive when she feels like it, and downright scary when she doesn't.”

“True,” Kakashi readily agreed. Something nagged him. He felt like he was missing something important. “Maybe—Soriya?—was ready for a break anyway. Two years is a long time to be isolated undercover. The stress must have been immense. Her target mission must have been extremely sensitive to require such a long lead time to get her into position. For what, I wonder?”

“I dunno,” Genma replied, “but it was certainly dangerous. I told you her teammates, Emiko Hagane and Kaito Oseki, were killed. Did you know them? I think we got word when you were away from the village.”

The silver-haired shinobi's eye widened in shock. A strong feeling of dread came over him.

“Emiko and Kaito?” His mind raced. _Soriya Kanzin...Kanzin. Could it be—?_

“Genma,” Kakashi gripped the man's shoulders urgently, “do you mean Suki Kanzin?”

“Uh, well,” Genma fumbled with the abrupt non-sequitur. “I do vaguely remember hearing her being called that a long time ago, but—Hey! Wait! Where are you—” he trailed off as the Copy Ninja suddenly performed a translocation jutsu and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

“—going?”

The dark-haired ninja sighed. “I swear, I'll never understand that guy.”

Frowning thoughtfully, Genma rolled the steel senbon from one corner of his mouth to the other. After a moment, he shook his head. Shoving graceful hands into deep pants pockets, the confused shinobi continued his solitary walk.

XXX

Kakashi crouched on the limb, hand resting against the tree's rough bark. The oak he had chosen was one of many affording an easy view of the comfortable-looking house. The brown-roofed dwelling was situated on the western end of a large, grassy clearing. A tidy workshop sat opposite the house. It was painted red with white trim, like a barn. Several large, rectangular windows had been painstakingly added just under the roof line to let in the light.

This was where Yori created his wooden masterpieces. The young man's hand-crafted furniture was exquisite and in high demand. The Hokage herself was known to own a large bed decorated with fancifully carved animals on the head and foot boards, courtesy of Yori Itasuki. Well-respected and trusted in Leaf Village, he was a kind, dependable man. He was also the one person from whom Kakashi figured he could willingly obtain some answers.

Inside the house, a woman's affectionately exasperated voice sounded. “Iori, keep your fingers out of the rice bowl! Wait for your father to come in for dinner. He should be here any minute.”

As if conjured by the words, a man clad in a flannel shirt and dark trousers stepped out of the workshop, locking the door securely. He turned toward the house, sunlight highlighting the auburn strands in his tussled brown hair. Bypassing the main entrance, he walked around the dwelling to the side door that led directly into the kitchen. He appeared to be in his early twenties, with warm hazel eyes and a ready smile.

Deciding there was no time like the present, Kakashi leapt from the branch he had been occupying. He landed lightly before the startled young man.

“Yo.”

Yori checked sharply, then relaxed, recognizing the silver-haired jonin. Running a hand through rumpled curls, he offered a weary smile.

“I figured we'd be seeing you sooner or later. Thought it might be sooner, actually.” The corner of his mouth lifted briefly, letting Kakashi know he was only teasing. Yori was well aware of the jonin's well-known track record for tardiness. He added, “She's not here right now. She comes home late these days.” He paused, then offered, “It _is_ good to see you, Kakashi. It's been too long.” His face softened. “She missed you when you stopped coming around, you know. Though she tried hard not to show it. But Izumi and I knew.”

Kakashi observed the man in front of him, noting the changes time had wrought. At just under six feet, the Copy Ninja didn't have to lower his gaze much to meet the younger man's eyes. Yori's build was stockier than the jonin's slim, finely muscled frame. That, too, was different.

_He's grown._

Somberly, the masked shinobi replied, “We talked about this, Yori. You know why I had to sever ties. She was becoming too attached to me, and it wasn't good for her. I felt she was making decisions as a chunin that were not in her best interests, and she thought I was trying to hold her back. She was beginning to resent my interference.” He sighed. “And perhaps, in all fairness, I _was_ lacking in objectivity regarding her career as a shinobi. So I left. However, I kept tabs on her through various channels over the years. Except, these last two years, I've heard nothing of her. Not a whisper. Until recently.”

“She wanted it that way, Kakashi. Otherwise, I would have found a way to let you know—” he broke off suddenly. “We shouldn't discuss this out here. Come inside. You always liked Izumi's cooking, and you haven't met Iori yet.” Yori smiled as he spoke of his two and a half year old son. He climbed the steps to the kitchen door. The Copy Ninja followed, hands in pockets.

Opening the door, Yori called, “Izumi, I'm home! And guess who's come with me for a visit?” he teased mischievously.

A heavily pregnant, dark-haired young woman appeared, drying her hands on a dish towel. She kissed her husband's cheek as he carefully eased past her rounded form, revealing the mystery guest. Her eyes lit up.

“Kakashi! How wonderful to see you! It's been far too long,” she chided. “Please, come in! Have something to eat. We're just sitting down to dinner. I even have cherry pie for dessert; I remember you used to like that.” She smirked. “At least, you claimed you did, although we never saw you eat any of it. When _will_ you stop wearing that mask all the time?”

“Uh, sorry?” Kakashi offered sheepishly, raising a hand to scratch the back of his head. “I don't suppose I could get a doggie bag though? With a big piece of pie, of course.”

Izumi snorted, then laughed. “For you, anything. You haven't changed at all, you know. I think I'm glad.”

“Thanks, Izumi. And congratulations on the birth of your son. And your approaching blessing as well.” He nodded toward her bulging belly.

“Ah, yes,” she smiled, pressing one hand against her lower back while the other gently patted her stomach. “The sooner this one arrives, the better. Doc says it could be any day now, and I am _very_ ready to have my body back to myself. This one's a kicker. Worse than Iori ever was.” She laughed.

“But come in and meet Iori already.” She tugged on the shinobi's sleeve, pulling him into the kitchen. He yielded gracefully, entering just in time to see Yori ruffle his son's auburn curls while discreetly removing the child's fingers from the serving bowl of rice.

“Iori, say 'hi' to Kakashi. He's an old friend,” Izumi prompted.

The child, suddenly shy at the appearance of the strange, masked ninja, clutched his father's shirt and stared mutely. Kakashi's dark eye crinkled up in good humor.

“Hi, there, Iori. I'm an old friend of your parents'. It's nice to meet you. Last time I visited, you were just a twinkle in your father's eye.”

Yori chuckled softly, patting his son's shoulder. “Don't be shy, Iori. Kakashi here is an old friend of your Aunt's, too.” He winked at Kakashi. “Currently, Aunt Suki is Iori's Favorite Person.” The way he said the words emphasized the title. “She's often the only one who can persuade him to comply with bath time or bedtime.”

Kakashi's gaze flicked up briefly at the mention of “Aunt Suki.” He refocused on the child as Iori found his courage to talk to the tall shinobi with funny silver hair. “Are you and Aunt Suki really friends?” he asked, doubt threading his voice.

“Well, yes, we were, years ago. But we haven't seen each other in a really long time. I can tell she must be a great Aunt though, because you obviously love her very much.”

This seemed to satisfy the child, and he went back to scrounging bits of fallen rice from the table, stuffing them into his mouth. Yori quickly fixed a plate of food, then beckoned to Kakashi.

“Come. We can talk in my office while Izumi feeds Iori. She'll join us as soon as he's off to bed. You don't mind, do you, dear?” he asked, glancing over at his wife. “I'm positive our guest is here for some answers and not merely a social call.”

Izumi smiled, though there was more concern than cheer in her eyes as she waved them away. “I'll be along when I finish up here. You go on.”

At that, Yori turned and led Kakashi down the familiar hallway to a small office at the back of the house. The room was cozy, equipped with a beautifully carved cherry-wood desk and chair, some filing cabinets, and two comfortably cushioned chairs bracketing a small table. The table was laden with a gorgeous shogi set. Kakashi stopped to admire the craftsmanship of the mahogany and oak pieces.

“Your work?” he asked, looking up at his host's face expectantly. “It's beautiful.”

“Oh, that. Yes. Soriya and I used to play with a cheap old set when we were younger. The first time she went away, I made this for her as a welcome home gift. It kept me too busy to worry. For a while, anyway.”

Yori stopped and shook himself, waving his guest to the corner chair. It afforded a view of the doorway and the small window along the back wall. Living with Soriya had accustomed him to the peculiarities of a shinobi's seating preferences. He settled himself in the chair across from the Copy Ninja, balancing the plate of food on his knee.

“You seem very happy here, Yori. I'm glad for you,” the shinobi offered sincerely. “You've come a long way from those dark days after your parents died.”

“After they were murdered, you mean.” Yori's eyes hardened, the grim expression out of place on his normally friendly face. He stopped, rubbing a hand over an auburn-stubbled jaw. Suddenly, he looked far older than his twenty-two years.

“I'm sorry, Kakashi, I don't mean to snap. It's not your fault those rogues killed my parents—we were just unlucky. If your squad hadn't arrived when they did, I'm sure Soriya and I would've been killed, too. We owe you our lives. For that alone, we'll always be grateful.”

He offered a weak smile, then glanced pensively at the shogi set.

“She was so angry after their deaths... Losing my parents was very difficult for Soriya. Even more so than for me, in some ways. I still had her to look after me, but she had no one, really. After Sumao and Kurumi went missing, all she had was my parents. And when they were killed...” He trailed off, as if seeing visions of a past he'd rather forget.

“Deep down, I believe Soriya blames herself for their deaths. For not being able to save them.” He shook his head. “Although I could never understand why. She was only a ten-year-old girl, and I was eight. What could either of us have done? All we could do was hide in the attic, like my parents told us.” His voice was bitter.

Kakashi stared into space, sorting through old memories. “We never did discover why those ninja targeted your family. They refused to surrender and were killed to the last man. A guard was placed on you both after that, but no further attempts were made. It was never resolved to my satisfaction, nor the third Hokage's, as I recall.”

Yori shrugged. “Whatever the reason behind the murders, they galvanized Soriya into action. Even though she entered the Ninja Academy so much later than the other students in her class, she still managed to make jonin by age nineteen. But then, she was always gifted,” he mused softly, with a touch of pride. He looked at the jonin. “You remember.”

Kakashi nodded. “I watched her graduate to genin status with pride. And I was pleased when she passed the chunin exams the following year. It was a superb performance, truly. But...” he shot a penetrating gaze at the younger man, “her desire for vengeance concerned me. It was obviously a large part of what drove her so fiercely. I feared for her,” he confessed.

“It wasn't the only thing driving her to succeed,” Yori commented, watching the shinobi carefully. “But you knew that, didn't you?”

Kakashi did not deny it. “It was a large undercurrent in many of our quarrels, yes. Ultimately, I felt it best to step back so that she could make her own decisions, without my interference. Perhaps I erred in that,” he mused, then shrugged. “I admit to being amazed when I heard she made jonin so soon. I sent a gift, but never heard from her.” He sighed. “I believed she was still angry with me, so I stayed away. I stopped hearing of her about two years ago, but as I was absent from the village for long stretches myself, I didn't worry too much about it. We jonin are a fairly secretive bunch, after all. Comes with the job.”

Kakashi straightened from his slouched posture, leaning forward in his chair. He held the younger man's gaze intently.

“Tell me what happened, Yori. What do you know of her whereabouts these last few years? Please. I need to know.”

Setting aside his mostly untouched meal, Yori rested his elbows on bent knees. He clasped his hands together. “I'll tell you what I know, Kakashi, only...gods know, it isn't much.” He took a breath. “When Soriya made jonin, she was pleased, but relatively unsurprised, I think. More focused, maybe. As if some goal she had set for herself was finally within reach.

“Back then, she was often away for months at a time on assignments. We heard from her infrequently, except for the occasional letter or rare unannounced visit. She never stayed long, and I often wonder if she would've come at all if the Hokage hadn't insisted she take leave after an assignment. I got the sense something dark was driving her, egging her on. She always denied it when confronted. But I could sense the old anger in her at times, although generally, she hid it very well.

“I do know she got the gift you sent. Though, as I recall, it arrived rather late. Almost a year after she made jonin, as a matter of fact,” Yori's voice was mock-severe.

Kakashi offered weakly, “Er, well... It took me a long time to figure out what to get her.”

The corner of Yori's mouth quirked. “Don't worry. I believe she was amused, rather than angry. She knew you pretty well, after all. And she did plan to pay you a visit and reconcile the friendship. But something happened before she got the chance, and it changed everything.” He paused, thinking back.

“The day after Soriya received your present, the Hokage visited. I don't know why they chose to come here rather than summoning Soriya to the Tower, but the meeting in my workshop lasted for over an hour.

“When they left, she was very serious, refusing to speak to Izumi and me about it. She told us she would be going away for specialized training and it was likely she'd be out of touch for many months, possibly a year. We asked when she would be leaving and were shocked to discover she planned to depart that very day. We argued with her fruitlessly for the better part of an hour, but she could not be swayed.” Yori grimaced in remembered frustration. “You _know_ how stubborn she can be.” He paused, pondering his next words carefully.

“I tell you, Kakashi...although she seemed subdued on the surface, I felt the old rage in her. That, and a strong sense of purpose. Whatever information the Hokage imparted, it provided a target for Soriya's anger. The specialized training—she wanted it badly. And we knew that once she'd made up her mind to act, she couldn't be persuaded otherwise.

“So we gave in reluctantly, helping her pack up the few belongings she took with her. It was mostly weapons, as I recall,” he smiled briefly. “Though I saw her slip your gift in as well, when she thought I wasn't watching. Or perhaps she meant for me to see. I've often wondered about that.”

Kakashi fidgeted slightly, but said nothing.

Yori continued pensively, “Izumi and I hugged her tightly—unwilling to let her go, really. But after a moment, she pulled away from us. She smiled, then pulled her vanishing jutsu act and disappeared.

“That was the last we heard from her, outside of the odd note, for many months. Once in a great while, she'd drop in for a day or two—usually when she was recuperating from some minor injury or other—but she was always anxious to be training again.

“One day, about two years ago, during one of her routine absences, a message scroll arrived for us via an... _unusual_...courier.” He quirked an eyebrow. “I was polishing the leg of a table in my workshop and looked up to see a strange cat sitting on it, staring at me. I remember it had rusty brown fur and bright gold eyes. There was a scroll attached to a collar around its neck. Since the cat seemed to be waiting for me to do something, I approached and took it.

“The message was from Soriya, letting us know she was fine and had completed her training. She went on to say she'd be out of the immediate area, and it was unlikely she'd be able to communicate with us for quite some time. She asked us not to worry, and said if anyone came around asking questions, we should feign ignorance of her activities and alert the Hokage immediately. She told us once more that she was all right and not to worry, then said the Hokage would be in touch if anything happened.”

Yori looked at Kakashi intently. “The 'to her' was clearly implied, if not written. I have to tell you, I wondered—not for the first time—if these constant absences had less to do with ninja business, than from a desire to protect Izumi and me from some unknown danger. But, since I couldn't exactly find Soriya to pry some answers out of her, I had no choice except to trust her. Although, I did demand a private meeting with the Hokage.” He grimaced, thinking back on that interview with evident dissatisfaction.

“She was kind, but decidedly unhelpful. She urged me to follow Soriya's instructions faithfully, and to report directly to her if anyone came sniffing around asking questions.” He frowned unhappily. “I hated the whole thing, but what could I do? Soriya was twenty-one, a grown woman, and the Hokage was clearly cognizant of the situation.”

“You could have come to me,” Kakashi said quietly. “I would've attempted to find out what was going on. I have some small influence with the Hokage, although she is not generally given to divulging secrets to those without a direct need to know. But I would have tried.”

“I'm sorry, Kakashi,” Yori sighed. “I thought of you almost immediately, but Soriya anticipated me. In her note, she warned specifically against getting you involved. Her words were something to the effect of 'don't you dare go to Kakashi with this. He's far too nosy, and if he starts digging for information it could compromise my safety.' I ask you, how could I ignore her when she put it like that?” He snorted grumpily. “She was always too clever for her own good.”

“Huh. Well, it sounds as if she had her reasons. Still, what's done is done. Tell me why she changed her name.”

“Ah, well...” the man squirmed uncomfortably. “That happened shortly after she made jonin. Something was different when she came back from her first long assignment. Her eyes were flat. Cold. She was closed off from us emotionally, and we couldn't breach her barriers well enough to understand the changes in her. However, after being home for a few days, she seemed to come back to herself. Although I have to say, she never seemed exactly at ease—even with us, her only family.

“One night, out of the blue, she suddenly announced that Suki was a child's name, and she wouldn't be using it anymore. She asked us to call her 'Soriya' instead. When we balked, not realizing she was serious, she calmly told us that if we loved her, we'd respect her wishes. Izumi and I were shocked and uncertain, of course. But since I could really see no harm in it, we complied.”

Yori ran a hand through auburn hair, musing, “The only person she allows to call her 'Suki' is Iori. I'm not really sure why. And she rarely smiles anymore, though occasionally he manages to coax one from her. She seems almost relaxed and happy when she holds him. Nothing else has that effect on her. I'm wondering how 'recovered' she truly is from this most recent ordeal.”

“She has nightmares, I know,” Izumi interjected quietly from the doorway. “I hear her because I don't sleep so well these last few weeks. She moans and thrashes in her sleep, and I go to her. But as soon as my hand turns the knob on her door, she snaps awake. Insisting everything is fine, of course, and telling me I shouldn't worry.” Izumi sighed with exasperation. “For goodness sakes, I know she's strong, but she's only human! Even if she is some powerful shinobi.” Dark eyes softened as she looked at the Copy Ninja.

“I'm really glad you're here, Kakashi. Maybe you can reach her somehow. Break through the walls she's erected. It can't be good for her to always be so controlled. Emotions that painful and strong have to surface eventually. I'm afraid for her.” Izumi sniffed, dark eyes glimmering with tears.

“She hasn't even cried for Kaito and Emiko, and I know she loved them dearly. We all did. She's gone to the memorial every night since her release from the hospital—she's probably there now. But she _only_ goes at night, never during the day. It's almost as if she feels she has no right to be there.

“And I can't get her to talk about it—their deaths, her pain, any of it.” She brought a hand to her mouth, stifling a sob. Yori rose and pulled her to him gently. Tenderly, he wiped the moisture from her cheeks with his thumbs.

“Honey, it's going to be okay. She's here now, and Kakashi can reach her. I know it.” He looked across at his friend who had risen to his feet. “Help her, Kakashi. Please. Because we don't know how.”

The silver-haired shinobi crossed the room to lay a comforting palm on the distraught woman's shoulder. He clasped Yori's hand in a firm grip.

“Leave it to me. Don't push her to open up; just be here. She sounds very fragile right now. Keeping those painful emotions locked up tightly helps her maintain control. Trying to force a reaction could be dangerous. I'll do whatever I can to help her, I promise.”

Giving Yori's hand one last squeeze, the Copy Ninja turned to leave. In the doorway, he remembered something. Pausing on the threshold, he glanced back at the younger man.

“One more thing. You said the Hokage visited Soriya here, but then you said 'they' met with her. Who did Tsunade bring?”

Yori's grip tightened on his wife's shoulder, then eased. “That's right. I should've said so earlier. There was one other who came with her. I recognized him by reputation, only because of the scars.”

Kakashi waited. “Yes?”

Yori's voice was flat. “Ibiki Morino, head of the Torture and Interrogation Unit,” was all he said.

Kakashi closed his eye.

XXX

Cradling the half-empty saucer of sake between slender palms, Tsunade stared at the image of the attractive young blonde woman in its still surface. Tonight she felt every one of her fifty-five years.

_Thank the gods for the transformation jutsu!_

She snorted.

Briefly, the Hokage considered consulting the scrying crystal to monitor Soriya's location, but swiftly rejected the notion. ANBU could do their job without her interference. She sat propped in bed, reports she'd been pretending to read scattered over the covers. They just could not hold her attention this evening. Slowly, she rolled elegant shoulders to relieve some anticipatory tension. A moment later, amber eyes flicked sharply to the bedroom door. The soft “tap, tap” on the sturdy wood announced the presence of a visitor.

“Come.”

A trim, wolf-masked figure slipped silently into the room. The ANBU operative offered a graceful bow to the woman ensconced on the bed.

“Hokage.” The masculine voice was crisp and professional.

“Report.”

“Operative Myugi reports that the target spent the day in the genealogy section of the research library again. Considering the sources she consulted, he postulates that she is attempting to trace her clan's ancestry and genetic makeup. For what purpose he is unsure, though he speculates she may be trying to assess the limits of her own powers.” The ANBU paused. “She also briefly consulted the political science section, and seemed particularly interested in the Land of the Wind.”

The Hokage stiffened. “Have you determined what she sought?”

The operative lifted a shoulder, wolf's head dipping to the side uncertainly.

“We are unsure, Hokage. The documents Myugi examined seem to concern the lineage of Wind Country's monarchy. The target also checked some references on Kazekage and the Village Hidden in the Sand, but her primary focus seemed to be the civilian government, rather than the ninja village. She appeared especially interested in material concerning Prince Mujito and his Chief of Security, Yukio Ryuji. Intelligence is trying to discern the pattern in her research, but they have yet to determine her true purpose.”

Tsunade waved briefly to indicate the ANBU should move on, and the nodding wolf's head complied.

“You are aware that Intelligence has recently confirmed that Yukio Ryuji was an alias for a ninja from the Land of Wind captured in a border skirmish some twenty-five years ago. He was going by the name Haruma Anji at the time. He was given over to the custody of the psych-nin for evaluation, as Interrogation had been unable to glean any useful information from him.” The agent drew a breath.

“Myugi has determined that Soriya Kanzin consulted the records of Anji's captivity here and matched the dates with the tenure of her late uncle, Akira Kanzin. He was Head of Psych at the time, and the treating psych-nin in charge of Anji's case.”

Tsunade sighed.

_Clever girl._

Aloud, she affirmed, “I am aware of Akira Kanzin's connection to Anji.”

“Yes. Then you know that Anji escaped from custody, taking Kanzin hostage. ANBU tracked them to the border between Fire and Wind, but during the chaos of the pursuit, the targets were swept into the Ganji River and over the falls. Neither the ANBU team, nor the Retrieval Unit that arrived later were able to find any trace of either of them. They were presumed dead. Until the new information surfaced on Yukio Ryuji,” he concluded.

“And now Soriya knows her uncle's death was ultimately caused by Ryuji.” The Hokage considered the likely implications in silence. The wolf-masked ANBU waited patiently, hands at his sides.

_But Ryuji is no longer at issue. For what could she be searching?_

Tsunade's mind circled around the problem.

_She knows something. Something she learned from Mujito, or perhaps Ryuji. But what?_

The Hokage frowned. Deciding to take another tack, she directed, “Tell me of Soriya's whereabouts this evening.”

“She left the library at 8 PM, when it closed. She ate a quick dinner at the dumpling stand on East Benbo Street. As has been her habit for the last several days, she then entered the memorial grounds at approximately 8:45 PM. She is currently under surveillance there.” The masked ninja paused.

“On a related topic, the ANBU team conducting surveillance on Yori Itasuki's residence reported that Kakashi Hatake showed up unexpectedly today. He did not attempt to hide his presence. Our agent was unable to hear his conversation with Yori Itasuki due to standing orders to remain undetected. It is folly to approach Hatake too closely; his senses are acute. The agent was unwilling to alert him to our presence unnecessarily.”

“Wise,” Tsunade agreed. “Although Kakashi probably suspected it anyway. He is well aware of Soriya and Yori's history. His sudden appearance there, after so many years, indicates he intends to involve himself in this. He means to warn me by approaching openly.” Tsunade smiled darkly. “How thoughtful.” She considered. This could ultimately work to her advantage.

“Follow Kakashi discreetly, but do _not_ interfere with him. Is that understood?”

“And if he should detect us?”

“With that one, it's not a question of _if_ but _when.”_ She snorted. _“When_ this happens, direct him to me. That is all.”

The masked shinobi executed a crisp bow, then turned, exiting the room on silent feet. The door closed softly behind him.

Tsunade brought the saucer of sake to her lips, tipping it slowly upwards. The smooth, clear liquid flowed over her tongue. Swallowing, she placed the now-empty saucer on the nightstand.

_So, Kakashi... Let's see if you can unravel the mystery surrounding this girl. For her own sake, as well as all of ours._

Sighing, the Hokage reached for the bottle of sake once more. Silently, she saluted the Copy Ninja as she settled back into her pillows. Events were becoming more interesting by the moment.

She hated when that happened. It was a kind of curse.

She wished she had a clearer idea of what the future held, but she'd just have to trust in her comrades and wait for them to gather more information. If she had to gamble on an outcome, she'd put her money on Kakashi Hatake any day.

Still, she'd do what she always did in such ambiguous cases: hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.

XXX

The cool evening breeze caressed Soriya's cheekbones, ruffling the long tendrils of hair that framed her face. The sensation was a welcome relief from the enclosed stuffiness of the library. Her heavy mass of dark red hair, elaborately braided and coiled at the crown of her head, was held in place by four jeweled sticks. A thick ponytail was given permission to swing freely to the small of her back.

Though lovely to behold, the intricate arrangement was giving the kunoichi a splitting headache.

Frowning, Soriya rubbed the center of her forehead with two fingers. Encased in form-fitting black, she blended easily with the shadows. Only her hands, face, and upper chest were exposed, gleaming pale in the moonlight.

Although there was no need to hide in this place, the jonin always approached cautiously. It was a habit she just couldn't seem to break. Soundlessly, her boots traversed the packed earth. She paused in a stand of trees, the glow of the lamp-lit memorial clearly visible up ahead. It appeared deserted.

Slowly, she inhaled through her nose, held the breath a moment, then released it through slightly parted lips. Stepping out from the shelter of the trees, she approached the sundial-shaped stone. Gray eyes wandered over the carved ebony surface before settling on the two recently added names. The fingertips of her right hand traced the letters, as though seeking to imprint them on her skin. They were already seared into her memory.

_Emiko. Kaito. I have avenged you. And more becomes clear to me every day. Do you know? Or care?_

She slipped back in time, memories of genin training with her younger teammates flooding into her mind. Emiko was the quiet, steady personality of the group—eager to make friends and develop the necessary trust required of a squad. Clever with her hands, the brunette had delighted in designing and gifting her partners with ingeniously concealed weapons. Soriya still possessed the chakra-infused dagger that could be made to assume another shape; currently it was coiled around her booted calf like a snake.

A hand reached up to finger one of the jeweled sticks anchoring her hair. Emiko had made them; a functionally beautiful gift for Soriya. They were hollow—designed to hold poisons, acids, and even substances that could be combined to produce a powerful explosive. One evening, she and Emiko had slaved over Soriya's hair for hours, until both of their arms ached, seeking styles that would enable the kunoichi to pull any desired stick accurately, without tumbling the entire arrangement into disarray. Over the years, Soriya had lost count of the number of times those simple hair decorations had come in handy.

Kaito had always chided Soriya about her hair's length. He thought it unnecessarily long. “It's dangerous in close combat,” he would say.

She would jokingly counter that taijutsu was _his_ specialty, and as the “muscle” of the group, he was supposed to keep the enemy from getting too close to her. But in reality, Kaito understood Soriya's hair served a specific purpose, other than mere vanity. It was a lure to the unwary—a calculated distraction designed to draw in one's prey. Much the same way does the Venus fly trap display a beautiful red center hoping to snare foolish insects. Coupled with Soriya's ability to mesmerize and confuse, it made her a formidable opponent. And an excellent spy.

Quite often, it had been her task to immobilize a foe long enough for Kaito to finish him off with his taijutsu, or for Emiko's hand-held crossbow to kill or paralyze as desired. That weapon had been Emiko's pride and joy. Her finest creation, she'd called it.

Gone now. Destroyed during the chaos of Soriya's desperate escape from Wind Country.

She flinched back from the memory.

_No. Don't go there._

“Kaito...” Her lips soundlessly shaped the name, as gray eyes darkened with sorrow. Anger lurked just below the surface, threatening to erupt. The fingers of her left hand fisted at her side.

_No! Stop this. It does no good to dwell on it. The mission was completed. It is the shinobi way._

But the grim set to her jaw belied her thoughts. Unbidden, chakra trickled into the air, causing the kunoichi's crimson ponytail to rise and sway alarmingly. Her right hand splayed open against the memorial stone and she would have gone to her knees, but for the approach of soft, deliberate footsteps.

XXX

Silently, Kakashi studied the woman standing over the monument. He'd been careful to rely on simple stealth, rather than ninjutsu or genjutsu, to hide his presence; chakra usage was like lighting a beacon where this particular kunoichi was concerned. He wanted to observe her for awhile and consider his approach.

Silently cursing his inability to see her face from his current position, the Copy Ninja daringly extended physical senses of hearing and smell, but detected nothing unusual. A trace scent of honeysuckle—her preferred fragrance, he recalled—drifted to him on the evening breeze. He breathed in deeply, watching and listening as she slowly traced the names of her deceased companions.

The violent clenching of her left hand drew his eye like an arrow.

Ominously, he felt her chakra concentrate; it stirred the tree leaves, rustling them madly even as her tresses began to rise. Tensing at the intangible threat she suddenly presented, Kakashi quickly ran through his options. Short-circuiting her pent-up fury seemed wisest. Deciding to make his presence known, the elite jonin calmly stepped forward, hands in pockets.

“Suki.”

She froze. As if it were as simple as snuffing a candle flame, the oppressive build-up of chakra vanished. The kunoichi's long, red ponytail settled once more at the small of her back. She did not turn.

“I no longer answer to that name.”

The voice was smooth and even, evincing no sign of the woman's momentary distress. The heavy emotion of a moment ago was gone, as if it had never been. Once again, Kakashi wished he could see her face.

This time, his wish did not go unanswered.

Drawing her right hand back to her side, the kunoichi slowly turned to stare at the masked shinobi. Kakashi compared the heart-shaped face, pert nose, and full lips with his memory and found its match. The eyes, however...

Cold and expressionless, they were silver mirrors that reflected rather than revealed. Instantly, he could see why Yori and Izumi were concerned. For a moment, he felt as though he were staring at a beautiful doll, rather than a living, breathing woman. He was almost surprised when she spoke.

“Why have you come?”

“To see you,” he responded quietly. “It's been too long. My fault, of course,” he offered, taking the blame at the outset.

One corner of her mouth quirked upwards. She arched an elegant brow.

“My, my, aren't you generous.” Gray eyes narrowed. “If Tsunade sent you to spy on me, you can tell her not to worry. I have no intention of losing control and descending into madness.” She paused as if to consider that. “At least, not today,” she amended dryly. “Sorry to waste your time.”

“Tsunade didn't send me, but I'm sure she knows I'm here.” He nodded toward the trees. “She has you under ANBU surveillance, as I'm sure you're aware. Yori and Izumi, too. I stopped by the house earlier. They were taking care to keep their distance, but I detected the subtle presence, nonetheless.”

“They watch me all the time,” Soriya acknowledged. For a moment, he thought he glimpsed anger in her eyes, but she blinked and it was gone. “They fear me.”

“Fear you?” Kakashi's voice was incredulous. “Why would they? Throughout your career—as genin, chunin, and now jonin—you've proven your loyalty and competence.”

“They fear me because now, after my latest mission debriefing, they are finally beginning to suspect the true horrors of which I am capable.” She snorted in self-derision. “If they only knew...” She trailed off, eyes sliding away from him.

“Knew what?” he prodded, when it became clear she didn't intend to finish the thought. Ignoring the question, she turned back to the memorial stone.

“Kakashi. Tell me. Does it ever get any easier?”

The Copy Ninja's dark eye focused unerringly on the names of his former teammates. Remembering Rin and Obito for a moment, feeling the ache of old regrets, he paused to consider his answer.

“No. It is a pain that you will carry forever. A heavy burden that never leaves you. But...I have found that this burden can be a source of strength as well.” Kakashi felt her surprise as she turned to face him.

“Don't misunderstand me,” he cautioned. “Being unable to save my friends is one of the biggest regrets in my life. I would choose a different path if I could do it over again. But I cannot.” Briefly, he closed his eye before continuing, “However...because I _have_ suffered such a loss, I've made it my goal never to lose companions as long as I am in a position to prevent it. To become powerful enough that I would never have to make such a terrible choice again.”

“A worthy goal. But can you truly achieve it?” she wondered, letting her eyes drift over the wild silver hair, barely restrained by his slanted headband. His nose under the lower mask was straight, the chin slightly pointed. She could only guess at the shape of the mouth, although the outline of the lips suggested they were well-formed, neither too thick nor too thin. Finally, she settled her restless gaze on his lone dark eye. He shrugged a shoulder gracefully.

“So far, it has enabled me to continue on in the shinobi way. I have met few ninja who are my equal in skill,” he said simply, stating a fact. “But I didn't come here to talk about myself. I was worried about you...Soriya.” He hesitated slightly before speaking the unfamiliar name. It seemed to suit this serious woman; Suki seemed merely a child's name. There was nothing innocent or childlike about Soriya Kanzin.

“Tell me what happened to you these last few years. Yori told me the Hokage and Morino came to see you. What did they want?”

“I won't discuss the mission. Not with you,” she stated flatly. “However,” she continued as he opened his mouth to speak, “I can tell you what the Hokage wanted. She wanted to talk about my parents, and Yori's.”

Kakashi blinked; that was not what he had expected. Curiosity aroused, he asked, “Had ANBU discovered any new information regarding those investigations?”

“In a manner of speaking. Though much of it was speculation. The Hokage told me she believed my biological parents' disappearance was directly linked to the murders of Yoshi and Mika Itasuki. She postulated that someone powerful and well-connected within our village may have sold information about my bloodline to outsiders.”

“You're saying...” Kakashi's mind spun quickly.

“Yes. Yori's parents were killed because someone was after me.” Bitterness permeated her voice. “They wanted the Kanzin Kekkei Genkai.” She turned leaden gray eyes on Kakashi. “Yori doesn't know, and I'd like to keep it that way. Please.”

He nodded sympathetically.

_Yori's right. She blames herself for their deaths._

“Since we have a traitor in our midst, the fewer people who know, the better, anyway. Information I've recently obtained has yielded some clues as to the possible identity of this individual. Not many people have access to my records, and even fewer would've understood the significance of what they contained, at least back then. My powers didn't fully manifest until years after Yori's parents were killed.” She fell silent.

Kakashi pondered the implications. He knew she wasn't telling him everything.

_She's hunting the traitor. She probably knows who it is, or thinks she does. Does Tsunade know?_

Something bothered him.

“Soriya, you spoke of the 'Kanzin Kekkei Genkai.' But the intelligence file I saw while investigating the Itasukis' murders detailed your lineage, and Yori's. There was no record of either the Kanzin or Itasuki clans ever possessing such a power. They've always been minor, though well-respected, clans in Fire Country.”

“This is true,” Soriya readily agreed, “but I've been conducting my own research. It seems there have been traces of power in the blood going back at least four generations, and perhaps longer. Many documents were lost during the Ninja World War decades ago, so I can't be certain. But the signs are there, if one knows how to look.

“Apparently, the power initially manifested in varied and subtle ways: merchants who were considered unusually lucky in their deals, a gifted psych-nin who literally 'felt' the emotions of his patients, and even a diplomat remarkably skilled in treaty negotiation.” She paused, considering. “Individually, they mean nothing. Mere random chance, laced with good luck. But when sequenced together, over time, one can trace the path of ever-increasing power. Especially easy to do, as our clan was never very large.”

Soriya shrugged, musing, “I wonder if that is perhaps due to the inherent instability of the genetic combinations required to produce the power. There are an inordinately large number of miscarriages, early deaths, and mental illness in the family history. Until I was born, my father was the last living member of the clan. His younger sister died in childbirth, and his older brother was killed a few years later.” Her eyes hardened at this last, but she did not elucidate further. Instead, she asked a question.

“You are aware that my mother had Hyuga blood?”

Kakashi thought back. “I do seem to recall that fact being mentioned briefly in the old reports. It was not considered significant as she was far removed from the main branch of the family, and barely a member of one of the cadet branches. She wasn't known to possess any special abilities, such as the Byakuygan.”

“No. She did not have such a power, and although my father was a kind and empathetic man, he did not appear to exhibit any unusual strengths, either.” Soriya stopped, considering her words. “I suspect the addition of Hyuga blood, no matter how dilute, combined with the Kanzin blood to produce the Kekkei Genkai as it exists in me.”

“And just what is this power, Soriya?” Kakashi dared, stepping into her personal space. He had to know what he was dealing with. That, and he wanted to test her, see what she could do.

He felt the full force of her attention almost as a physical blow. He resisted the urge to step back from her. Instinctively, he knew it would be perilous to show fear. Not if he wanted her trust.

“Would you like a small taste of my power?” she purred, gray eyes darkening perceptively. “I promise not to hurt you with it.”

“Why do I not find that reassuring?” he asked rhetorically, rolling his visible eye.

Her chin rose. “Give me your hand,” she commanded imperiously, tone daring him to refuse.

Mouth suddenly dry, Kakashi slowly raised his left hand and presented it to the kunoichi, palm up. Her face filled his vision and she smiled.

“Cautious, as always, to give me your non-dominant hand. Please. Take off your glove.”

He quickly complied, tensing as she moved closer. The scent of honeysuckle filled his nostrils, and he breathed in deeply. Her luminous gray eyes seemed very large close to his own dark one. She took his bare hand carefully between her own and placed it palm down at the base of her throat. His thumb and fingertips brushed her collarbones.

“Relax,” she whispered.

Staring into her beautiful eyes, which by now were mostly pupil, Kakashi analyzed her genjutsu technique. Simple mesmerization, he concluded with disappointment. For a shinobi at his level, it was easy enough to escape.

Or should have been.

With sudden trepidation, he realized it was impossible to look away from her. He considered trying to physically break free, but a presence in his mind, well behind his mental barriers, startled him.

“Wha--!” He tried to form words, but found he could not move at all. Instead, he stood there, heart pounding, as an old image was dredged up out of his memory.

_A younger Soriya, tearfully asking him, “Why can't you understand? I need to do this. I thought you would be proud of me!”_

_“Your motives are misguided, Suki. You cannot become a true shinobi if you are solely driven by the need for revenge. That way lies madness. I've seen it before, to my sorrow. I cannot watch you travel down that path—it will only lead to grief.”_

_She stood before him, breath hitching in her throat. The hurt in those beautiful gray eyes wounded him._

_“Fine. You do what you have to. As will I.”_

_Abruptly, she turned on her heel and stalked away from him. She did not look back. His hand twitched slightly, as though it would draw her back to him, but he resisted the urge. Closing his eye, he sighed, shoulders slumping wearily..._

Struggling out of the memory, Kakashi concentrated fiercely on the feel of his palm at the base of the kunoichi's throat. Her pulse point throbbed under his fingertips and he swallowed. Of its own accord, his thumb moved to stroke the soft skin.

Inhaling sharply, Soriya stepped back, releasing him. Long lashes swept down, hiding her expression.

“Now you understand,” she murmured softly, regret shading the words.

The Copy Ninja said nothing for a long moment. His heart thumped loudly in his ears. He drew a deep breath, forcing a calm he didn't feel.

_She's a telepath. And quite a powerful one. She got past my shields like they weren't even there. No wonder the Hokage is concerned. If this power were to be harnessed for ill use—_

“How long?” he asked, noting with mild chagrin that his voice sounded huskier than normal. If the redhead noticed, she gave no sign.

“The ability initially manifested during the chunin exams. Since then, I have vastly improved in both skill and power.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, rather than boastful. “The exact nature and extent of my abilities are highly classified, by order of the Hokage. You can see why.”

“Indeed.” He thought some more. “But the Hokage knows of it. And Morino, I presume. And at least one other, probably. Our traitor, perhaps?”

Soriya shrugged noncommittally. “There are at least three or four others I can think of that know. But none of them could have predicted the extent of my abilities eighteen years ago, when my parents disappeared. Going back fourteen years to the Itasukis' murders doesn't help, either. The Kekkei Genkai hadn't manifested yet. There was no way to know I'd develop such power. Only in the last few years have I come to understand and master it myself. On-the-job training, if you will,” she observed dryly.

Once again, Kakashi wondered at the true purpose behind Soriya's mission. He would have to confront Tsunade in the near future, he was certain.

“You said Tsunade offered you a mission. Why was Morino there? It's not standard procedure for the head of the Torture and Interrogation Unit to attend such meetings.”

She shrugged. “Once the Hokage explained the mission and I accepted, she said he would be handling my preparation and training.”

Kakashi didn't like the sound of that. Ibiki Morino was a shinobi who clearly enjoyed his work. Though generally, he preferred to employ psychological torture, rather than mere physical brutality in order to break a subject's will.

Sensing the darkening of the elite jonin's mood and guessing its cause, Soriya added, “Just so you know, that ten months was the most difficult and intense training I've ever experienced. But it's entirely thanks to him I'm still alive.” Her mouth turned down in a frown. “Though I confess, there were times when I thought he was seriously trying to kill me.” She shuddered. “Those are lessons I'll _never_ forget.”

“I imagine so,” Kakashi replied absently, thinking that he would speak with Ibiki Morino at the first opportunity. After Tsunade, he decided.

Soriya drawled, “You can talk to Ibiki-sensei if you like, but he won't tell you anything. Not without the Hokage's approval.” Seeing the expression on his face, she laughed, a genuine sparkling sound.

“No, Kakashi...I didn't read your mind. I just know how it works. I have watched you for years, after all.”

Emotion flickered in her eyes, but it was gone before he could name it. The redhead's features smoothed back to their usual neutrality, although her eyes seemed less cold.

“And now, if you'll forgive me, I'm tired. I have two classes to teach tomorrow and I'd like to be fresh. It was good to talk to you, Kakashi. I trust I'll be seeing you around.” She nodded at him, knowing full well she'd likely have little choice in the matter. She'd piqued the Copy Ninja's interest and he had ever been curious, like a cat, and as tenacious as the dog pack he could summon at will. Giving him a sardonic salute, she summoned chakra for a translocation jutsu and slowly faded from sight.

For a long moment, the silver-haired shinobi stared at the spot where the kunoichi had been standing. Then, shaking himself slightly, he called chakra, vanishing in a puff of smoke.


	2. Chapter 2

The redhead watched from the shadowed corner of the classroom as the students filed in and chose their seats. There were only eight upper level chunin present, but the small, even number was to Soriya's liking. Mentally, she matched the faces with the files from her roster sheet, gaze lingering curiously on Sakura Haruno. As a genin, the strawberry-haired kunoichi had been Kakashi's student. Any protege of his would likely be brilliant. She moved on to Hinata Hyuga. Unlike the other girls who were engaged in random chatter, Hinata stayed silent, glancing around the room uncomfortably. The dark-haired chunin started visibly as her pale silver eyes settled on the hidden jonin.

_Can't sneak an illusion genjutsu past the Byakuygan._

Satisfied, Soriya dispelled the Shadow Concealment jutsu. The girls' giggles cut off abruptly as they focused on the silent kunoichi. She was tall, graceful, and exotic-looking, with thick hair cascading down her back in a crimson fall, jeweled sticks precisely placed to keep long locks out of her face. Without saying a word, Soriya knew she had their full attention. She introduced herself.

“My name is Soriya Kanzin. I'll be your jonin instructor for this course.

“I've read your personnel files and understand that you've already received training in the so-called 'womanly arts' of flower arranging, cooking, music, dancing, and so on. Such knowledge is vital on missions where you may be required to assimilate into the general population for the purposes of intelligence gathering. However, this course goes beyond those basic espionage skills.” She stopped to look each kunoichi in the eye.

“Some of you will never use many of the skills I teach. Others among you will rely on them throughout your careers. Whether you choose to employ these techniques as shinobi is entirely up to you. Here in Leaf Village, we are granted some latitude in declining certain types of missions.

“However, you must all be able to recognize these tactics—and counter them, if necessary. They could someday be used against you, your teammates, or a target you are trying to protect. The information I impart to you may save your life, or the life of someone important to you. Please take it seriously.”

Intrigued by her words, the chunin gave her their rapt attention. Encouraged, Soriya elaborated.

“First, we will cover the basics of human reproduction and sex education. This includes birth control methods and your options should such methods fail. Take good notes,” she advised as groans sounded. “This is not just a rehash of the health course required for the medic-nin. The last thing a kunoichi needs is to get pregnant during a mission. You've got to know all the tricks. Mixing contraceptive potions, influencing your chakra to prevent conception...and if those fail, how to mix abortifacient potions. These last can be used as assassination tools as well,” she intoned neutrally, waiting for the shock to appear on her students' faces. She was not disappointed to see Sakura take the lead in asking the question.

“Excuse me, Soriya-sensei? Do you mean that we might have to use a potion like that to...kill...an unborn _baby?”_ she squeaked.

“One never knows what situation one may find oneself in, Sakura,” Soriya remarked coolly. After a moment, she relented.

“But, no. I doubt the Hokage would ask any of you to wield this potion as a weapon. However, you may be called upon during a mission to ascertain whether such a potion has been administered, or to prevent its use. Such intrigues are not unheard of in countries with hereditary rule and complicated lines of succession. You must be able to recognize the signs of such tampering, if required.”

The faces before her relaxed slightly. Soriya continued outlining the course syllabus.

“We will continue with the...ah...ins and outs of sexual intercourse and masturbation.” She laughed inwardly as eight faces turned varying shades of red. “You should know how to seduce a target in order to solicit information. It is quite often the simplest method we utilize. It requires no torture or killing in most cases, and is the usual _modus operandi_ of deep cover agents.”

The girls' eyes widened as they stared at Soriya and made the connection.

_Yes, that's it. Welcome to my world._

“But you cannot effectively use this method without some practical experience. And I would strongly advise against 'faking it', or making it up as you go along. With many targets, this would be unwise and even dangerous. Therefore, I will assign you 'homework' in this area.” She shaped quotations with her fingers. “It's up to you to complete it, as I will not be checking your bedrooms at night, or spying on you.” She smirked at that. “Contrary to popular belief, I do have something of a life.”

The class giggled nervously. Soriya smiled wistfully.

_They're all so young..._

She cleared her throat. “Consider these assignments 'hands-on' training, if you will. The practical exam will be given in the field soon enough,” she remarked with a knowing smile.

The expressions on the students' faces were varied. Some looked rather green, while most just seemed embarrassed. One or two appeared openly interested.

_Just about right,_ Soriya thought, briefly recalling her own training.

“Lastly, we'll cover assassination methods. Poisons, concealed weapons, and specialized genjutsu will be examined in detail. I can also show you a few tricks using controlled chakra bursts into the brain or heart to simulate a stroke or heart attack. Not all of you will have an aptitude for this type of attack. For most shinobi, it requires close physical contact with the target, and precise control of offensive chakra, to remain undetected. It is a rare skill, even among jonin. Done correctly, it will result in the death of the target, without fail.

“Most medic-nin would have no hope of repairing the damage caused by this technique,” she nodded at Sakura, who was the most proficient medic-nin present. “It is within the realm of possibility—barely—that a healer of Hokage Tsunade's caliber might be able to save the victim's life. However, the quality of that life would be in grave doubt.” Soriya paused, assessing her students. They eyed her with a wary respect.

_No one's run screaming from the room yet. It's a start..._

“That just about covers the course outline, I think. Are there any questions?”

When nobody raised a hand, the jonin nodded. “Then let us begin.”

Walking to her desk, Soriya picked up a stack of handouts, dividing them amongst the chunin. Moving to the overhead projector, she touched an index finger to the first plastic film. Using a subtle hand sign to focus her chakra, the kunoichi called up the data imprinted on the sheet.

“Here we see a diagram of the reproductive system of the human female...”

XXX

Hours later, Soriya sat at her desk, chin in palm. She considered her first day as a teacher. It had proven refreshingly uneventful. Although she found the class of male chunin, with their surging hormones, amusing. For supposedly sly shinobi, they were embarrassingly obvious. She was actually grateful that she couldn't read minds directly without physical contact. The telepath was quite positive she didn't want to know what some of them were thinking!

Soriya had given them roughly the same speech as the kunoichi, regarding the purpose of the course. The course outline was essentially identical, the focus slightly different. For the men, she planned to emphasize recognizing and countering techniques enemy kunoichi might use. There were not really many women in powerful positions in society currently, the Fifth Hokage notwithstanding. But it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that a male shinobi might seduce the spouse or mistress of a powerful man. Some men liked to boast to their partners and that was often useful information to be had.

Stretching to work the kinks out of her neck and back, she stood slowly. Gathering the next day's completed overheads, she locked them securely in her desk. Her left hand moved through the signs of a subtle jutsu, trapping the lock. _Good to keep in practice._

One-handed jutsu were very tricky and required exceptional control to master. Satisfied that anyone tampering with the lock would receive one hell of a migraine headache—complete with nausea—Soriya strode to the door. As she darkened the classroom with a flick of the light switch, she felt the presence of a familiar mental signature.

“Yo.” Kakashi ambled toward her, right hand stuffed in his pocket. In his other hand, he held an open book. “How was class?” he drawled.

She studied him, an eyebrow rising toward her hairline as she noted the title of his book. “Still reading dirty novels, I see.” She smiled. “It comforts me to know that some things never change.”

Leaning toward him, she lowered her voice, “You know, I thought the second book in that series was better. Particularly chapter thirteen.” Winking cheekily at him, she turned to walk down the long hallway, clicking her boot heels as she went. She knew it would draw his attention to her long legs.

_He was always so much fun to tease._

Kakashi's eyebrow rose with Soriya's offered opinion of his reading material. Imagining her reading the referenced chapter caused his face to flush. Fortunately, most of it was covered by the dark fabric of his mask.

Coughing slightly, the silver-haired shinobi pocketed the book, then nonchalantly followed the kunoichi down the hall. He walked slowly, to better appreciate the view she presented. But then, she'd always appealed to him, on many levels. If he were honest with himself, it was the main reason he hadn't been able to retain objectivity around her.

Well, they were both older and wiser now, he supposed. _Where had she learned to walk like that?_

“Hey, Kakashi!” Genma's voice sounded behind him. The elite jonin paused, noticing that Soriya had turned back as well. Feeling inordinately pleased for some reason, he waited expectantly for Genma to catch up.

“I see you're already putting the moves on the new sensei, eh, Kakashi? You always did work quickly.” He elbowed the Copy Ninja in the ribs, oblivious to the sudden annoyance in the normally placid shinobi's eye.

“What do you want, Genma?”

The handsome jonin ignored the question, smoothly rolling his senbon toothpick to the corner of his mouth. Sidestepping Kakashi, he focused on the beautiful kunoichi instead.

“Soriya, don't waste your time on a guy like him. Kakashi's always cool as a cucumber. You should ask someone a bit more hot-blooded to show you a good time.”

Soriya's voice was cool as she replied, “Oh? Did you have someone in mind?”

“I just might be available,” he offered, smiling, “if you're interested.” He moved closer, rolling the senbon from one corner of his mouth to the other.

The kunoichi's lips turned up in a dark smile. There was something in her eyes that Kakashi didn't like. A lack of emotion. Emptiness.

“Genma...” he cautioned, suddenly uneasy.

Soriya tipped her head back slightly, gazing up at the brown-haired shinobi through long lashes. “No offense,” she told him in a low, mocking tone that implied the opposite, “but I don't think you could handle me. Go find some other girl to play with you.”

Disregarding the warning in her tone, Genma chuckled, reaching out to wrap an arm around her waist.

Soriya _moved._

Snapping her left hand out to grab his wrist, she yanked him toward her. Her right hand gripped his throat like a vise, slamming the startled shinobi back into the wall. Gleaming eyes bored into shocked brown ones.

“Do not. Touch me. Ever.”

Chakra flared, causing the kunoichi's long hair to lash the air in agitation. Her grip tightened on Genma's throat. His free hand desperately clutched her wrist, trying unsuccessfully to break her hold. From where he stood, Kakashi could see her pupils dilating.

“Soriya.” The Copy Ninja's tense voice sounded in her ear. He was careful not to touch her. “Let him go, Soriya. He's an ass sometimes, but a harmless one. I think he's learned his lesson.”

Heart pounding, the kunoichi relaxed her fingers with visible effort, allowing the red-faced shinobi to breathe. Slowly and deliberately, she leashed her chakra, forcing it down. Crimson hair settled around her like a cloak. She stepped back suddenly, releasing the astonished man. Genma collapsed against the wall in relief, drawing huge lungfuls of air.

“What is your problem, lady?” he gasped. “Are you some kind of monster? I was only playing around!”

“Shut up, Genma!” Kakashi snapped, eyeing Soriya warily. The beautiful jonin stood unmoving, face pale, eyes shuttered. When she spoke, her voice held no emotion.

“That's exactly right. I _am_ some kind of monster. You'd do well to remember it.” She turned on her heel and continued down the hall to the balcony exit. Her feet made no sound on the wooden floor. Opening the door, she quietly slipped outside.

Kakashi turned an exasperated eye on Genma. “That was foolish. What were you thinking, trying to grab her?”

The man shrugged, embarrassed. “Honest, Kakashi, I didn't know she'd freak out like that. The other kunoichi don't seem to mind. If they're not interested, they just swat my hands and send me packing. She really tried to kill me!” he exclaimed, hurt.

Kakashi sighed. For someone who had as much experience with women as Genma did, the man could still be remarkably dense on occasion. Shaking his head, the silver-haired ninja advised, “Remember that she's only been back with us for a short time. She's probably not familiar with your...er...particular brand of charm. I'd give her a wide berth, if I were you.”

“Don't worry,” Genma vowed. “You deal with her. I wish you luck.” Turning to leave, he halted suddenly, glancing back at the Copy Ninja. “By the way, Kakashi...if she kills you, can I have your dirty book collection?”

Kakashi snorted, waving the recovered shinobi away.

Sobering, he walked to the balcony exit door. He needed to find Soriya. Following the sweet, honeysuckle scent that seemed to linger wherever the kunoichi went, he tracked her to a deserted corner of the large balcony.

She stood, elbows braced on the wide stone railing, hands clasped tightly. Unwilling to startle her, he allowed his feet to scrape the concrete as he approached.

“It's okay. I'm not going to attack you.” Her tone was bitter. “Though I don't expect you to trust me. No one else does. With good reason, it seems.” She sighed heavily. “Is he okay? I didn't intend to lose it like that. If you hadn't stopped me—” she broke off, muttering, “Ibiki-sensei would be _furious.”_

“Genma's fine,” Kakashi assured her. He let the reference to Ibiki Morino pass. He would get to the bottom of that mystery later. “He's been rejected by kunoichi before. You were just more thorough than most at expressing your disinterest. He'll have a healthy respect for you in the future.”

“Respect. Heh. I think you mean fear.” Her voice was filled with self-loathing.

Kakashi shrugged noncommittally. After a moment, Soriya turned to him.

“It's hard to be feared by everyone. Kaito and Emiko didn't fear me. Although...” her eyes glistened, “perhaps they should have. They trusted me. Trusted my power. But in the end, I failed them both.” She closed sorrow-filled eyes, confessing, “I miss them, Kakashi. I _needed_ their trust, their unshakable faith in me.”

“You are not alone, Soriya.” He stepped closer to her. _“I_ don't particularly fear you. You've given me no reason to do so. And I want to trust you. But you're keeping me at arm's length. Why? What are you afraid of?”

Deflecting the question, she countered, “You don't know enough to fear me. Not yet. But eventually, you will. Besides, could you really trust someone like me?” she queried, disbelief evident in her voice. “Knowing you could keep no secrets from me if I wished it?” She stared at him. “I don't believe you.” Gray eyes dared, begged him to contradict her. Tears gathered at the corners of her lashes when he failed to answer. They did not fall.

Kakashi stood perfectly still. He took a breath.

_Can I do this? Do I have the strength?_

Staring into the kunoichi's pain-filled eyes, he came to a sudden decision. Fervently hoped he would not regret it. Carefully removing his fingerless gloves, he tucked them away. Slowly, he raised a hand to the head band slanted over his left eye. He had to know what was going on in her head.

“What are you—?” Soriya's voice trailed off. She froze, barely breathing, as Kakashi offered her his gentle mismatched gaze. Reaching for her face with bare hands, he cradled her jaw, fingers skimming the slender throat. Her pulse jumped in response to his touch. She inhaled sharply, twin tear tracks spilling over her cheeks.

“Do you know what you're doing?” she asked, voice low and shaky.

Brushing his thumbs lightly across the wetness, Kakashi entreated softly, “Let me in, Soriya.” The Sharingan began to spin lazily, black flecks rotating in the red iris of the Copy Ninja's left eye. “Help me understand.”

Her eyes darkened, although she did not respond. He gambled. “Please, Suki.”

Even though he'd braced for a strong reaction, he was still not entirely prepared when the kunoichi's luminous eyes flashed like lightning. Suddenly drowning in the ebony of dilated pupils, he was bombarded by a flood of memories.

_A ten-year-old Suki's shaking hands gripping a kitchen knife as she and Yori hid in the attic, Yori's parents screaming in unison below. Flashes of Soriya at the Academy. Her camaraderie with Kaito and Emiko as they trained and sweated together. The Hokage's serious face speaking to her in Yori's workshop, Ibiki Morino standing impassively off to one side, arms crossed over his broad chest. Soriya, white-faced with pain, clutching her broken arm to her chest, warily crouching before a silent, tiger-masked ninja. Morino's face sneering at her, “Again. Not good enough. I can still sense your chakra. Heal her,” he commanded to someone outside her field of view._

Dimly, Kakashi felt Soriya's hands overlap and tighten on his own, pulling him deeper into her mind. The dizzying rush of images slowed as the telepath summoned a memory and harshly forced it on the masked jonin.

_Soriya, dressed in a sari of silver-trimmed turquoise, crept quickly down a pillar-lined corridor. She took care to keep to the shadows, using stealth to hide her presence. Sudden panic gripped her as the screaming began again. She forced the feeling down and hurried, as fast as she dared, to the dungeon steps. She could practically taste the waves of fear and pain pouring off Emiko from below. How long ago had they captured her? What should she do? Were Soriya and Kaito compromised and in danger at this very moment?_

_Calling on the power of the blood-bond she'd purposefully created with Emiko, the kunoichi risked a precisely controlled stream of chakra. Following the strong tide of emotion back to Emiko's roiling thoughts, Soriya reared back from the overwhelming sensation of all-encompassing agony, almost losing the tenuous connection. Her mind could barely grasp the horror of what had been done to her teammate, her friend._

_Pinned naked to a table by several long blades, the young kunoichi was covered in blood. The fingers of both hands had been badly broken, and one eye was completely swollen shut. Abruptly, the woman's ragged screaming subsided to a weak, choking cough, bringing more blood to her battered lips. She could barely draw breath. Soriya sensed Emiko's chakra was completely drained, likely from trying to heal the grievous wounds her torturers had inflicted. She had no reserves left._

_Stifling her horror, Soriya touched the woman's mind with surgical precision. “Emiko.” Her mental voice betrayed her shock and grief._

_“So-Soriya?” The reply was faint, as though she were very far away. “I didn't—didn't tell him anything.” Emiko's broken body struggled for breath and strength. “Help me. I can't hold out...much longer. End this.”_

_Soriya's head snapped back, shaking from side to side in agitated denial. “No. No! Do you know what you're asking? I can't. I won't!”_

_Emiko's mental signature vanished as a jagged scream erupted once more from the dungeon. Empathic waves of pain washed over Soriya, driving the kunoichi to her knees. Bile rose in the back of her throat and she gagged, swallowing harshly. Emiko's anguished thoughts surged back._

_“Soriya, please! Think of the mission. As you love me,” she begged, “free me from this torment! I'm dying anyway—” She broke off, coughing and gasping as more blood filled her damaged lungs._

_Soriya crouched, hands gripping the stone floor hard enough to break fingernails. The pain focused her, and she drew a shuddering breath. Steeling herself, she sent a razor-thin stream of chakra down the connection to Emiko's mind._

_“Forgive me,” she whispered, as she forced the power to concentrate along the chakra nerves traversing the Circle of Willis arteries at the base of the brain._

_She thought Emiko sighed faintly in relief._

_Closing her eyes, Soriya's jaw clenched. Power surged, bursting the nerves and blood vessels simultaneously. The brain hemorrhage was immediate and massive. Head bowed, the telepath stifled a sob with the back of her hand. Still connected to Emiko's consciousness, she watched helplessly as her friend's life quietly ebbed away._

_Harsh cursing erupted from the dungeon below. Swallowing rage and grief, Soriya struggled to her feet. Ruthlessly suppressing her chakra, the kunoichi slipped silently back down the hall to her chambers, eyes burning with unshed tears._

_Yukio Ryuji._

_He would endure a very special torment for every moment of Emiko's suffering._

_She, Soriya Kanzin, swore it._

As the memory gradually faded, Kakashi became aware that Soriya no longer gripped him. Tears long restrained flooded down her cheeks, over his hands, trickling down the skin of his inner wrists. She uttered a single, choking sob, placing both palms against his chest to push him away. He refused to allow it, shifting an arm around her waist, pulling her into his embrace. She resisted at first, stiff in his arms.

“Soriya,” he whispered, cupping her cheek, “it's okay. I've got you. Just let it out.”

The gentleness in his touch and voice crumbled her resolve. The kunoichi's forehead dropped to his shoulder as heart-rending sobs tore through her. Trembling hands fisted in his vest. Feeling her knees buckle, Kakashi lowered them both to the ground. He held her tightly as she cried, as if he could keep her anguished, shuddering form from flying apart by sheer presence alone.

A riot of emotions swamped the Copy Ninja. Shock. Grief. Tender protectiveness. Perhaps some deeper emotion he was not prepared to name. He pushed those feelings aside for later introspection, focusing on the deep, furious anger he felt for what she had endured.

_It's a miracle she's even sane. Emiko's death is only part of it. I've got to speak with Tsunade as soon as possible. Something about this whole mission stinks._

Finally, the kunoichi's choking sobs eased, and she slowly pulled away from him. She did not meet his eyes.

“So. Now you know the monster I truly am. _I_ killed her. For the mission. Because I knew that if I didn't, both Kaito and I would be in danger.” She spoke harshly, damning herself.

“You released her from horrific suffering, Soriya,” Kakashi corrected gently. “She was dying and she knew it. You merely spared her more suffering at the end. I understand this is no comfort to you, but it meant everything to Emiko. She trusted you enough to ask it of you. Trusted that you would be strong enough to do it, and live with yourself afterwards.”

“Ha.” There was nothing amused in her tone. “I've lived with it, yes. But that's only because I've been extraordinarily lucky. You don't know...” Her eyes closed wearily. “And I can't go there. Not yet. Not even for you.” She hung her head, hair falling forward to veil her expression.

Kakashi's fingers tipped her chin up. He wanted to see her eyes.

“Don't hide from me, Soriya. There is nothing you have done that will make me turn away from you,” he vowed, willing her to sense the truth of his words.

She raised red-rimmed, glorious eyes to his own. All at once, he was very aware of the honeysuckle scent that permeated her hair and skin. His pulse sped up and he swallowed. With a kind of bemused surprise, he realized he desperately wanted to kiss her.

Just as he thought it, her eyes widened and she inhaled shakily through parted lips. Too late, Kakashi remembered he was touching her. His gaze dropped to her mouth, captivated, as a pink tongue moistened the full lower lip. She swallowed anxiously; the reflexive motion shattered his self-control.

Pulling her to him, Kakashi tangled his fingers in silky red hair. Drawing her face closer, he could feel her heart thudding madly, competing with his own.

“Soriya...” he breathed.

Slowly, she reached up to the mask covering his nose and mouth. He held perfectly still as she hesitated, gray eyes wide. Wordlessly, Kakashi pressed his face into her palm, urging her to continue. Delicately, she tugged the thin fabric down, luminous eyes never leaving his own. He inhaled her scent unimpeded, leaning in until their noses touched. Gently, he traced a path from nose to cheekbone and back, lips trailing along the curve of her jaw to the corner of her mouth. The sound of her shallow, uneven breathing, combined with the petal-soft touch of porcelain skin spurred him onward.

Tugging lightly on her hair, he tipped her head back, granting him better access. She made a noise low in her throat, lids fluttering closed. Greedily, he drew her lower lip into his mouth, sucking gently. A moan escaped her and she pressed into him, arms wrapping around his neck. He could feel the rapid rise and fall of her breasts against his chest. His own breathing was none too steady.

Delicately, he probed her mouth with his tongue. She tasted sweet. Like mango, he decided, intensifying the kiss. His eyes closed as she responded, tongue sliding against his own. Suddenly, his need for her was urgent, the kiss turning volatile. Panting for breath, he broke away from her mouth, nibbling a path down to her slender throat. Scraping teeth lightly along her pulse point, he laved it gently with his tongue. She gasped, body arching into him. His hands shifted to her hips, holding her tightly against him.

He was losing control, he knew. Had lost it the moment he touched her. Still, he couldn't bring himself to stop.

“Soriya...” he groaned as the kunoichi's fingers tangled in his hair. The intensity of his desire threatened to overwhelm them both.

The sound of his voice, ragged with passion, snapped Soriya back to her senses. His concern, coupled with fierce desire, and another, deeper emotion bombarded her. The rush of sentiment was just too much. It scared her, almost as much as her own overwhelming response. Breathing heavily, lips swollen from his kisses, she reached for control, struggling back from the silver-haired shinobi.

Perceiving her distress, Kakashi loosed his hold reluctantly. He stared at her in concern. Her breathing was much too fast.

“Soriya?”

“No. I can't.” Her voice broke. “I'm sorry.”

Recognizing, but not understanding her fear, he reached for her. “Tell me what's wrong.”

She scrambled back from him, uncharacteristically graceless.

“I'm sorry, Kakashi. I-I just... I can't handle this right now.” She stood shakily, passing a hand over her eyes. “Maybe not ever. I'm sorry.”

He sat back on his haunches, breathing heavily, hands on hips. It seemed he had broken through her defenses, and now she was in full retreat. The passion that flared between them was genuine, but she was not mentally prepared for it, he realized. Sensing it would be unwise to press her, he opted for a temporary strategic withdrawal.

“Soriya. I'll let you go for now, but I won't give up,” Kakashi warned. “I can't. Not knowing you want me as much as I want you.” She flinched and he continued. “Run if you need to, but remember that I am an excellent tracker. I'll catch you eventually,” he promised.

She stared at him, gauging his sincerity with wide eyes. Then, without another word, she placed a palm flat against the stone railing, leaping out over the edge of the balcony.

Kakashi heard the kunoichi's boots land lightly, but when he stood and peered over the edge, saw no sign of her. Pulling up his lower mask, the Copy Ninja repositioned the headband over his left eye, concealing the Sharingan once more. Willing his racing pulse to slow, he eyed the surrounding trees.

“Show yourself,” he ordered calmly.

A breeze shuffled the leaves of a large oak overlooking the opposite end of the balcony. The next moment, a figure wearing a white ceramic mask painted to resemble a wolf's face dropped to a crouch fifteen meters from Kakashi's position. Dressed in the black leggings and sleeveless tunic favored by ANBU black-ops, he carried a katana strapped to his back. A gray leather vest and metal bracers served as armor. The wolf-masked shinobi rose and faced the elite jonin without speaking.

Kakashi opted for the direct approach.

“Are you shadowing me, or Soriya Kanzin?” he asked bluntly. When the man did not reply, he said, “I see. Both of us, then.”

The operative spoke. “We have been instructed to send you to the Hokage directly. I am not permitted to answer your questions, except to say that she expects you at any time.” His message delivered, the masked ninja leapt back into the trees and disappeared.

Heightening his hearing, smell, and vision, Kakashi scanned the immediate area, but detected no covert presence. He smiled darkly.

_So, Tsunade. You got my message after all. I can hardly wait to hear what you have to say._ He snorted. _Particularly about what just happened._

He sighed, cursing his momentary lapse of control, but not its actual result.

_Soriya..._

He could still taste her on his tongue. He wondered where she'd fled. Who would she seek to help sort out her confusion? Certainly not Yori and Izumi, whom she seemed determined to protect.

_Who, Soriya? Who will you run to? Who do you trust?_

Banishing that line of questioning for another time, Kakashi carefully reviewed Soriya's known history. He was convinced Tsunade knew more than she'd told the kunoichi about her parents' disappearance and the Itasukis' murders. He'd bet money that Soriya's mysterious assignment was directly linked in some way. He shook his head in mild annoyance.

“Tsunade, what kind of game are you playing?”

Deciding he'd given the ANBU operative ample time to report, the Copy Ninja gathered his feet beneath him, leaping into the trees. He headed north, toward the Tower in the distance.

XXX

From her desk, Tsunade watched the sun's pink orb slowly descend beneath the horizon. She pondered the implications of the latest ANBU report while she waited for Kakashi to arrive. Would his involvement with Soriya make the Copy Ninja more effective in this case, or would it hamper his judgment? Years ago, when confronted with a similar situation, he had chosen to pull back and maintain his objectivity. He'd left the girl to decide her own fate.

_But the years change us all. Can he, will he, make the same choice again?_

In any case, Kakashi was important to Soriya. He might be the only one who could stay her hand, if need be. The kunoichi was incalculably dangerous. That alone was reason enough to give the shinobi a pass on his earlier loss of control.

In truth, it amused her that the normally cool, unflappable ninja could be so strongly affected by a woman, just like any other man. Though, in fairness to him, the Hokage conceded that Soriya was not just _any_ woman. She chuckled.

Kakashi Hatake didn't stand a chance.

“Something amusing?” drawled the placid voice from her open window. “Care to share?” The elite jonin stepped lightly down from the sill into the room.

Tsunade eyed him sternly. “Don't you know it's unwise to sneak up on your leader? Ever hear of knocking?” Not expecting a reply, she added slyly, “And no. I don't care to share my inner musings on your love life. I'm not sure you'd be pleased to hear them anyway.”

Kakashi had the grace to flush, but offered no apology. Instead, he walked to the chair in front of her desk and dropped into it. Folding long-fingered hands in his lap, he slouched, propping a foot up on the desk to rock the chair back on two legs. Coolly, he addressed her.

“So. Want to tell me what's going on, instead? You obviously want something from me. And Soriya, I take it. This mysterious mission of hers... Something doesn't seem right.”

The amber-eyed woman did not answer immediately. Instead, she reached into her bottom desk drawer for a sake bottle and two saucers. Slowly pouring for both of them, she proceeded to sip from her saucer delicately.

Kakashi's eye narrowed. Dropping the chair back to four legs, he reached for the offering with one hand, while lowering his mask with the other. Holding the saucer at an angle calculated to block most of the view of his unmasked face, he drank, draining the liquid in one continuous swallow. Repositioning the mask, he set the saucer down slightly harder than necessary on the desk's polished surface.

“You're angry,” Tsunade commented matter-of-factly. “That is unlike you.” She paused, considering. “I find it refreshing, actually.” At his look of chagrin, she smiled. The smile didn't last.

“You ask me what I want from you. I tell you three things.

“First, discover the identity of the traitor who set ninja on the Kanzin and Itasuki clans, and deal with him accordingly.” The Hokage's voice was death.

“We believe this individual's ultimate goal was to abduct Soriya, perhaps to gain control of her Kekkei Genkai. We also know this person operated through civilian agents affiliated with the Wind Country's monarchy. The identities of these agents were supplied by the Kazekage of the Hidden Sand Village. In return for a very large favor, of course,” she added wryly.

Kakashi's eyebrow rose with interest. The Hokage asked him, “How much do you know of the monarchy in Wind Country? I speak particularly of the line of succession.”

Taking a moment to order his thoughts, the Copy Ninja replied, “Lord Takamori has ruled Wind for thirty-seven years. He's considered a just and strong ruler, although for the last five years or so, there've been rumors of ill health. It's believed he suffers from a wasting sickness, though the exact nature of his condition is a closely guarded secret. He's made few public appearances in recent years, and talk of the succession has become commonplace. He had two sons: Kisho, the eldest, and heir, and Mujito, the younger son. But Prince Mujito died suddenly of an aneurysm about two months ago...” Kakashi's voice trailed off as he made the connection. His eyes narrowed. The Hokage nodded, pleased.

“You begin to see. What I tell you now is known only to myself and two others.” Her voice was quiet. “I offered Soriya this assignment based on specific recommendations for someone with chakra-suppressing abilities far beyond the norm of most jonin. The recommendations were made by none other than Lord Gaara, the Kazekage of the Sand Village.”

His eye widened. “The Kazekage? But that means—”

“Yes. Sand engineered the assassination of Prince Mujito, working with and through Leaf ninja as their agents.”

Stunned, Kakashi took a moment to digest that news. Finally, he asked in disbelief, “But why? Why was such a deceit necessary? Shinobi from Sand are exceptionally skilled. Surely they wouldn't request outside help on a task as sensitive as this.”

“I was suspicious of their motives myself, especially as relations between our two villages had been sorely strained under the previous Kazekage's tenure. I have not forgotten their past betrayal. But Lord Gaara was careful to explain the exact nature of the difficulty.

“You see, Mujito Takamori was gathering rogue ninja in an attempt to assassinate his elder brother, Kisho. Lord Gaara discovered this, and was able to use his shinobi to discreetly thwart three separate attempts on Prince Kisho's life. Unfortunately, the assassins killed themselves to avoid capture, and so could not be forced to reveal Prince Mujito as their employer.

“To complicate matters, Mujito cannily arranged an attempt on his own life, which occurred at the time of the second attempt on Kisho. This, of course, deflected suspicion away from himself and onto some of the more highly ranked nobles. Conveniently, the rogue ninja were detected and killed to a man by Mujito's Chief of Security.”

The Hokage paused to refill her saucer. She quirked a speculative eyebrow at the masked shinobi. He waved her off, thinking furiously.

Shrugging, Tsunade sipped her drink. She commented idly, “You see the Kazekage's difficulty. He did not wish Prince Kisho, a strong, capable leader, and the rightful heir, killed. He also could not allow the monarchy direct control over a large army of rogue ninja, should Mujito succeed in taking the throne. As in all of the Five great nations with large ninja villages, the Sand Village is independent and on an equal footing with the civilian government. That balance would be threatened should the second son become King.

“Yet, neither did Lord Gaara want it known that Prince Mujito was behind the assassination attempts.”

“He sought to prevent civil war,” Kakashi stated flatly.

“Yes. And King Takamori's condition was gradually worsening, although he was not considered in danger of imminent death. The Kazekage decided his best option was to remove the younger son, thus securing the succession for the rightful heir, and ending the threat of civil war. The plan had the added benefit of ridding Sand of the risk an army of ninja beholden to the monarchy posed.”

“That would be the obvious solution,” Kakashi agreed dryly. “What went wrong?”

“The teams he sent were detected before they could make contact with the Prince. And these were teams of elite jonin, no mere chunin. Most were killed, but one shinobi managed to escape with his life. He claimed that Prince Mujito had a rogue ninja who could sniff out chakra users. He suspected this man was none other than Yukio Ryuji, Mujito's Chief of Security.”

Kakashi started at the name.

Observing him keenly, Tsunade surmised, “So, she told you of him, did she?” _Promising._

“My understanding is that he was ultimately responsible for the capture, torture, and death of her teammate, Emiko Hagane. Soriya swore revenge on him.” The Copy Ninja paused. “He is dead, I presume?”

Tsunade snorted. “Oh yes. Quite dead. Along with twenty of his best men. But I am getting ahead of myself.

“Yukio Ryuji was actually an alias for Haruma Anji, a rogue ninja captured twenty-five years ago during a raid on our western border. He was questioned by the Torture and Interrogation Unit, but they were unable to break his mental defenses. As this was unusual, he was turned over to the psych-nin for further...study. Soriya's uncle, Akira Kanzin, was the head of Psych at that time, and he took charge of Anji personally. From Kanzin's personnel file, it appears he was extraordinarily gifted, able to experience emotions and even flashes of images from his patients.” She paused, staring down at her reflection in the sake saucer pensively.

“But something went horribly wrong. Anji abducted Kanzin and escaped from the psych ward. ANBU pursued, and was able to track them as far as the Ganji River, but during the resultant battle, Anji and his captive were knocked into the river and swept over the falls. No bodies were recovered, and they were presumed dead.

“That is, until the Kazekage contacted me three years ago with new information concerning Yukio Ryuji.” She stopped, tossing back another mouthful of sake.

“Was Soriya aware of this when she accepted the mission?” Kakashi asked. Somehow he doubted it.

Tsunade did not reply immediately. Finally, she answered softly, “No. I did not consider it wise to inform her at that time. She was told only that Ryuji was a rogue ninja who might have information regarding her parents and the Itasukis. She was to ascertain what he knew, if anything, then terminate him. Ostensibly because the client wished it, but really because of his role in the raid and Akira Kanzin's kidnapping and subsequent death twenty-five years ago.” Her eyes hardened.

“Frankly, his suspected involvement in the circumstances surrounding Soriya's family was more than enough reason for me to sign his death warrant.” She sighed, adding, “I believe Soriya recently discovered Ryuji's role in the death of her uncle. However, I don't know how she knew to search the records library for those particular files. Clearly, she knows something. I want to know what it is,” Tsunade declared, looking intently at the impassive shinobi. “But, back to the mission.

“The Kazekage was unable to get anyone close to the Prince without Ryuji detecting them. Sand ninja are indeed highly skilled. However, they are relatively few in number. Lord Gaara came to Leaf because he expected we would have shinobi with the requisite abilities for the task.” She smirked, then added, “Also, he had information he knew we wanted, the sly dog.

“Sand discovered it was Yukio Ryuji, ostensibly acting for Prince Mujito, who was responsible for the Itasukis' murders. He was also suspected of orchestrating Soriya's parents' disappearance years earlier. However, the sand ninja were unable to discern the motive behind either of these actions.

“I, of course, had no intention of informing them of Soriya's unique powers. But someone else is clearly aware of them. I want whoever it is,” the Hokage stated flatly, “dead or alive.” She flipped a hand negligently. “Whichever is easiest.” Both knew it was far easier to kill than to capture.

Kakashi summarized, “So...you offered the mission to Soriya, hoping it would ultimately lead to the identity of the traitor.” He frowned. “Wouldn't it have been better if you'd just told her everything to begin with?” When she just stared at him, he passed a hand over his face. “Sorry.”

The Hokage shrugged. “In hindsight, you may be right. But I had my reasons.”

He studied her unapologetic visage. “You don't trust her, do you?”

Refusing to be baited, she said only, “Soriya has always performed her duties admirably. She accepted the mission I offered, and withstood the grueling training required for its success. That's all you need to know.”

He stared at her a moment, then nodded. Thinking back to the dizzying rush of images glimpsed from Soriya's mind, he ventured, “Ibiki Morino was teaching her to suppress her chakra, even when stressed or injured. No wonder her level of power is so surprising,” he mused. “She controls it so tightly, you can't even sense it most of the time.”

“Only most?” Tsunade's eyes were sharp. “She's slipping then. When she left Ibiki, her control was absolute. It had to be, as she was to infiltrate the palace right under Ryuji's nose. Her teammates were there only peripherally as backup and to relay messages at need. Also to aid in extracting her if the mission went sour. They were not personally subjected to Ibiki's rigorous training. An oversight that apparently cost Emiko Hagane her life, it seems.

“Although I'm not sure they could have mastered the chakra suppression as Soriya did, even with such training. Her powers are myriad and not well understood. And they appear to be increasing exponentially, from the reports I've received.” Tsunade looked the Copy Ninja in the eye.

“Which brings me to the second task I have for you. Determine, if you are able, the course of events that occurred between Soriya and Yukio Ryuji. There is no doubt that she set a trap for him and killed him. It's the manner of his death and the deaths of his men that puzzle me.” The Hokage frowned. “I mislike what I cannot clearly understand. It has a way of coming back to haunt one later.”

“What was unusual about the deaths?”

“Twenty bodies, plus Yukio Ryuji, scattered across an area roughly four hectares in diameter. Eight were obviously guarding the perimeter, not even facing the central area of conflict. No visible wounds on the twenty. At least, none the ANBU Retrieval Unit could detect. Ryuji is another matter entirely, and one better explained by someone on the scene,” the Hokage opined.

“Why was the RU there? Who were they sent to retrieve?”

Tsunade sighed heavily, but her gaze did not falter. “They were summoned by Kaito Oseki to retrieve the bodies of Emiko Hagane and Soriya Kanzin.” As Kakashi stiffened, she continued slowly, “Or so we thought. When they arrived, what they actually discovered were the bodies of Emiko and Kaito. Emiko's body had been prepared and wrapped for transport, presumably by Kaito. Though I have reason to believe Sand shinobi assisted in the retrieval of her remains.”

“How did Kaito die?”

Tsunade glanced away from the silver-haired shinobi, chewing her bottom lip. After a moment, she turned back, amber eyes unreadable. “It appears he attempted to intervene in the...” she searched for the word, _“altercation_ between Soriya and Ryuji. He was shot in the throat by a small hand-held crossbow. The bolt was poisoned.” She locked eyes with the Copy Ninja, who stared back, unflinching. “It was the favored weapon designed and carried by Emiko Hagane.”

Kakashi stood abruptly, placing his hands flat against the Hokage's desk. He leaned toward her, speaking firmly and concisely. “Soriya did _not_ pull that trigger. You can't believe that of her.” He searched the blonde woman's impassive face for clues to her thoughts, not liking what he saw there.

Ignoring his admonishment, Tsunade replied, “When the RU arrived, Soriya was grievously wounded, her chakra almost completely drained. Fortunately, one of my former students, Enya Ryusuki, was traveling with the RU. He's a gifted medic-nin; he has the rare potential to be as good as I am, one day.” The Hokage's tone was smug.

“Despite the fact that Soriya attempted to resist his Greater Healing jutsu, Enya was able to bring her back from the brink of death.” She offered a brief smirk. “In her weakened state, she couldn't deny his power, even with her gift. Or perhaps, _especially_ with her gift.” Tsunade mused softly, considering that for a moment.

“In any case, he was able to heal her physical body, and supplement the drained chakra, but there was something wrong with her mind. Something he couldn't see. Once her chakra began to return, she started raving and thrashing uncontrollably. She literally gave several of the RU major headaches, although only those who had direct physical contact with her. Had she been at full strength, I do not like to think what might have occurred.” The Hokage's expression was grim.

“Enya judged it prudent to keep her unconscious until the RU could get her back here. She was closeted with him and the psych-nin for the next two months, and gradually regained control, along with her sanity. Though she's apparently walled off the events surrounding Ryuji's assassination deep in her mind. She cannot account for Kaito's death, except to say that she knows she didn't kill him. She also claims no memory of how the twenty rogue ninja died.” Tsunade sat back in her chair, frustration drawing small lines between her brows. “You see why Psych refused to clear her. And I concur with their assessment.”

“So you want me to discover what happened out there,” Kakashi's voice was grave. “Having experienced a small portion of Soriya's Kekkei Genkai for myself, I believe it is possible, even highly probable, that she killed those men. But not Kaito. That, I won't believe. She wouldn't go that far, not even for revenge. Especially not after what she was forced to do for Emiko,” he spoke adamantly. Pushing away from the desk, he paced the room like a caged panther.

“About the deaths of the former, I agree with you,” the Hokage spoke seriously, tracking his movements with shrewd amber eyes. “I pray your instincts are correct regarding the latter. Which brings me to the third and final task I would ask of you.” She drew a breath, letting it out slowly.

“Disregarding Kaito's death for the moment, I must consider that if Soriya did indeed kill Ryuji and his men _en masse,_ she is a telepath with power on a level unheard of in our history. As such, she has the potential to be extremely dangerous, even to her allies. And worse, she is unstable. A damaged weapon, perhaps broken beyond repair. Due to the nature of her power, she represents a serious security risk.”

Kakashi's pacing abruptly ceased. Tsunade could see the tension in his back and shoulders as he stared out the window at the night sky. His voice was too calm as he spoke without turning to face her.

“Just what are you asking me to do, Tsunade?”

Her reply was careful and deliberate. “For now, nothing other than what you already do. Assess her strengths, weaknesses. Test this weapon, Kakashi. Heal her if you can. Bind her in her sheath. The Leaf Village does not want to lose her. But we cannot allow her to be used by others either.”

“Soriya would never let that happen!” Kakashi snarled, truly angry as he whirled to face her. “She would die first!”

“That, too, is my concern,” Tsunade responded evenly. “She is strong. I admire her greatly. She does what is needed, as is the shinobi way. But she has been forced to commit acts that she deeply abhors. Although she is not one to choose suicide as a release, I believe she would welcome death should it seek her out. From one quarter or another,” Tsunade spoke quietly, willing him to understand her meaning. “I would have you prevent this.”

The elite jonin's stance relaxed and he grimaced. “You're asking me to save her from herself? I failed to do this once before, as I'm sure you're well aware.” He sighed, absently running a hand through his shock of silver hair. “She has always been stubborn. What makes you think I can save her now?”

“You are both older, and I sincerely hope—for all our sakes—wiser. Already, you have passed beyond the boundaries of your old relationship, as this evening's little interlude proved.” Tsunade smiled, although it didn't quite reach her eyes.

“I _want_ you to save her, Kakashi. And in doing so, save _me_ from a decision I don't want to make.” Her voice was soft. “You have a better chance of success than anyone else, should you bring to bear all your resources. Although there may be one other who could possibly pull her back from the brink. Perhaps. Or perhaps not,” Tsunade mused, noting the slight darkening of the shinobi's expression. “But I judge you the better risk, by far.” She winked at him.

“And now, I would recommend you speak with two people particularly. The first is Enya Ryusuki, my former student.”

“And the other?” he asked.

Tsunade smiled, a genuine smile this time. “Have you not guessed to whom Soriya might go if she felt her control slipping? Truly, I thought you would have figured it out by now.”

Kakashi's mouth frowned behind his mask. “You're saying she went to Ibiki Morino?”

Clapping her hands, Tsunade stood, collecting the empty sake saucers. “Excellent! You never disappoint, Kakashi. Yes. I checked the scrying crystal just before you came.” Her smile faded as she fixed him with a serious gaze.

“Perhaps the two of you together can keep her from falling off the ledge on which she's standing.”


	3. Chapter 3

Soriya stared at the solid oak door, indecision uncharacteristically evident in the lines of her body. Raising a hand to knock, she hesitated. Then, gritting her teeth in annoyance at her cowardice, the kunoichi rapped knuckles sharply against the wooden surface. Silence answered.

Just as she was about to knock again, the door opened. A tall, powerfully built shinobi filled the entryway. Two single, parallel, diagonal scars crossed his cheeks like claw marks, barely missing his eyes. The imposing man evinced neither surprise nor irritation at the unexpected visit. Mutely, Soriya met his piercing gaze. After a long moment, the head of ANBU's Torture and Interrogation Unit grunted, stepping back to grant the kunoichi entry to his private quarters.

She glided past him, looking around curiously, noting the few changes in the sparsely decorated space. She'd been here twice before. Once, three years ago, when he had outlined in detail the type of training required in order to carry out the mission. Then again, almost a year later, after she'd completed the rigorous training. He'd cooked dinner that night; a man of many hidden talents. Afterwards, he'd informed her she would be leaving the village in the morning.

Pausing on the threshold of the living room, she commented, “I like the flowers. Did you grow them yourself?” She nodded at a vase of white lilies. They rested on a low mahogany cabinet lining the far wall of the room. The ivory petals contrasted sharply against the deep wine color of the walls.

_The color of my hair._

She started, as a new thought struck.

_The color of blood._

Ibiki Morino had not taken his eyes off the slender redhead gracing his living room. He compared the woman before him with his prior memories of her, noting the subtle changes. He answered obliquely, “Flowers have very simple needs. Nutrients. Water. Sunlight. If one can discover and supply the precise ratio of their requirements, it is easy enough to cultivate them.”

Soriya digested that for a moment. Turning to face him, she replied soberly, “That is not so very different from our line of work. Find out what the target needs, so we can get him to do what we want.”

Her voice was bitter. It wounded him, although she could not know it. He had always been careful not to touch her, and he was not, by nature, an emotional man.

“Soriya. Why have you come?”

His voice was gentle. She had not expected that. Opening her mouth to speak, no sound emerged. She inhaled instead, a sharp sound that danced on the edge of a sob. Sinking down onto the cream-colored sofa, face hidden in her hands, her shoulders shook slightly. She made no further sound.

The shinobi's scarred face softened as he watched her struggle to contain turbulent emotions. Moving to the comfortably plush chair across from her, he sat, waiting patiently. It was a skill at which he excelled, and it had served him well over the years.

Eventually, the kunoichi's breathing steadied. She raised her face to him. His heart ached at the haunted look in the moist gray eyes.

“Ibiki-sensei. I need your help.” She stopped, unsure how to frame her request. “I feel—” she hesitated again, groping for words.

“Out of control?” he suggested mildly.

She didn't even narrow her eyes at that, as it was true. Head hanging, she allowed hair to cascade over her shoulders, shielding her face from his view. She spoke from inside the heavy, red curtain.

“I still have so much rage inside. I feel it leaking...pouring...out of me. I can't contain it,” she admitted baldly, looking up to meet his eyes. “It frightens me. I don't know what I might do, or to whom...” her voice trailed off miserably.

Ibiki appraised her, dark eyes giving no sign of the direction his thoughts traveled. When he finally spoke, his question surprised her.

“What is it you want, Soriya?” his voice was bland, incurious. Almost as though he had no real interest in the answer, but asked merely for the sake of politeness.

“Want?” she echoed, confused.

“What do you want out of life? Revenge? Truth? Safety? Love?” His voice lingered over the last word.

She stared at him, trying to gauge the intent behind the question. She failed utterly. It irritated her. At one time or another, she had wanted all of those things. Perhaps still did. Ibiki _knew_ her, knew this.

Inwardly, she cursed the limitations of her power and his habitually grim expression. She had never been able to get inside his head, figuratively or literally. He would not allow her to touch him, and very little leaked past his strong mental defenses otherwise. Although it usually irked her, there were times when she found it strangely comforting. She decided to answer honestly.

“Peace,” she said, voice weary. “I want peace.”

Ibiki leaned back in his chair, black eyes narrowing.

“Peace.” He snorted. “Peace is for the dead. Choose something else. Choose power. Choose duty. Choose anything else. There is no peace for the living.”

“And is there peace for the dead?” she asked him, voice low and quiet.

_Ah, now we come to it,_ he thought.

Selecting his words carefully, Ibiki replied, “One cannot know with certainty, of course. One can only hope. But I have found it is helpful to remember there is often a reason some people survive while others die. A purpose, if you will.”

“And what is that?”

“That, my dear student, is what you seek. Your purpose. The reason you survived, while Emiko and Kaito died.”

Ibiki studied her pale face. Though she sat unmoving, he felt her chakra swirl in agitation briefly before she dampened it.

Her weapon. The weapon he had made of her.

“You fear your power. It has increased. So master it.” He said the words calmly, as though it were as simple as taking a walk in the park.

“People have _died_ because of my power,” she snarled. “People I love. My parents. The Itasukis.” In a quieter voice, “Emiko.

“How can I continue to use what has hurt so many?” she cried.

The scarred shinobi stood suddenly, and walked to the cabinet on which the vase of lilies rested. Opening one of the doors, he removed a small box. Walking around the sofa, he offered it to Soriya.

“You asked me to hold this for you once. I believe it is time to return it.”

Fingers trembling, Soriya took the box from his gloved hand. She held it on her lap, unblinking, as if gathering the will to open it. Finding the courage, she removed the lid, slowly lifting out the polished metal circlet inside. She turned it to see the Leaf Village emblem engraved on a silver plate on the band's surface. Running her thumb across it gently, she found the catch and pressed, causing the small, rectangular plate to spring open.

The first glimpse of the photo inside caused Soriya's heart to constrict painfully in her chest. Briefly, she closed stinging eyes. Swallowing past the sudden thickening in her throat, the kunoichi steeled herself and forced her slightly reddened gaze back to the photo.

It was a picture that had been taken outside at Yori and Izumi's home, several years ago. She remembered the scene clearly; she had taken the photo. Heart aching, she studied Kaito and Emiko's smiling faces. Kaito's grin was sly as he gave an unsuspecting Emiko rabbit ears behind her head. Izumi and Iori stood behind them, arms around each other, happy in each others' presence the way newlyweds often are. They had only been married a couple of months she recalled, gaze softening.

Then, as if saving it for last, she let her eyes drift to the masked figure standing off to the side. Kakashi's visible eye was crinkled up, hinting at a smile. His hands were tucked casually in his pockets. She'd made him put his naughty book away for the picture. Delicately, she traced a finger over his image, unaware that Ibiki observed and cataloged her every reaction to each person in the photograph.

Deliberately, he moved to sit on the sofa, startling her. Feeling embarrassed for some reason, she flushed, offering Ibiki a lopsided grin.

“Kakashi had this made for me when I made jonin. He must have gotten a copy of the photo from Yori.” She showed Ibiki the picture briefly, then snapped the plate closed. “It's a choker, see?”

Opening the catch on the back, she manipulated the chakra in the dark metal to bend the one-inch band. Placing it around her throat, she engaged the clasp with a snap, activating the protection in the band. The metal felt cool against her skin, although she knew her body temperature would warm it quickly.

“It was supposed to protect me from being strangled. By him, the card said. His little joke.” She laughed shortly. “I could've used this when Yukio Ryuji was choking the life out of me.” She winced in vaguely remembered pain, rubbing at her throat. She drew a deep breath, just because she could.

“Soriya,” Ibiki spoke gently. “You ask why you should use your power when it could not keep Kaito, Emiko, or your other loved ones safe. But I ask you, would they have been safer if you had refused to use it?” When she didn't answer, he pressed, “Your parents would still be gone. The Itasukis would still be murdered. Even Emiko and Kaito would still be dead, only you would be as well.” Impossibly, his voice softened still further. “I spoke with the Hokage and Enya after your return. You almost were. Enya told me you tried to resist the healing.”

“I wanted to,” she acknowledged quietly. “But he was touching me, and I felt his struggle to save me. I couldn't _not_ feel it.” Her eyes narrowed in remembered anger. “He _knew_ that. Knew my gift. He deliberately used it against me.” The anger faded as she closed sorrow-filled eyes.

“He _wanted_ to save me, truly. It hurt him deeply to think he might fail. It always hurts him. And I was so _tired._ Tired of causing pain. Too tired to shut him out. I couldn't do that to him, not then.” She sighed. “So I gave in. I surrendered to the Greater Healing. I didn't really have the strength to fight him off anyway,” she confessed.

“But you hated yourself for allowing it.”

She said nothing for a long moment. Then softly, “Yes.”

Ibiki reached out a gloved hand, touching her shoulder.

“Soriya. It is not wrong to want to live, though others have died. There are many who would have grieved for you had you successfully resisted Enya. Would you pass that burden onto them? You are stronger than that,” he stated emphatically. “I know, perhaps better than anyone else, just how strong you are. I've watched you struggle with your power, eventually mastering it. You can do so again, if need be.”

She stared at him, luminous eyes wide. She thought she saw pride and affection in his face. Directed at her. Suddenly, her heart felt a little lighter. She tried a weak smile.

“Does this mean you'll help me?”

He frowned at her. In a mock-severe tone, he chided, “I believe I've helped you quite enough for one day.” He relented, adding, “Besides, you've already mastered all the mental techniques I could teach you. You merely require practice. Might I recommend a certain cocky, one-eyed shinobi as your guinea pig?”

She gave his arm a slight shove. It was like pushing a mountain.

“Ha ha. How unkind of you, siccing me on Kakashi without even warning the poor guy.”

“The Copy Ninja is not my concern,” Ibiki corrected. “Besides, he can handle himself. And I think he probably risks less injury from your power than most, because he matters to you.”

She snapped, “Tell that to Emiko.”

“If you want to wallow in guilt and self-pity, do it on your own time,” he grumped back. “Have you allowed Kakashi to touch you?”

She flushed, admitting, “Yes. Twice. The first time, I just called up an old memory of his. Of the last time we argued.”

“And the second time?” Ibiki pressed.

“He offered,” she countered defensively. “He wanted to know about Emiko's death, so I showed him. That's all.”

“You let him into your mind? You must have a fair amount of confidence in your control to risk such a thing. Kakashi wields the Sharingan. He may see more than you intend if you allow him unrestricted access to your thoughts,” Ibiki warned.

“It wasn't 'unrestricted!' And Kakashi only wants to help. He would never deliberately hurt me,” she responded hotly.

“Perhaps,” conceded the scarred shinobi, secretly pleased with her vehemence. “But remember, Kakashi is also shinobi. Because of his level of power and exceptional skill, he is granted considerable leeway in exercising his will. But he is not without a master.”

“The Hokage,” she stated flatly.

“Even so.”

“And what of you?” she asked, curious as to what he would admit.

“Me?” He pretended to ponder her meaning for a moment, then sighed. “I, too, am not without a master. But Soriya, be aware that in this particular case, our master—and yours, too, I might add—wishes for an outcome that is favorable to you. We will aid you, inasmuch as we are able, Kakashi and I,” promised Ibiki. He knew he would likely be seeing the elite jonin very soon. “However, you must allow it. And we cannot rid you of your power, or decide how to wield it for you. Nor would we, if we could. It is your gift, and your burden. Bear it,” he advised, not unkindly. “You have the strength.”

Standing, he offered her a gloved hand. She took it, rising gracefully to her feet. She returned his grip tightly for a moment, gray eyes serious. Then, nodding once, she silently slipped out of his grasp, heading toward the door. Opening it, she stepped out onto the porch, turning to look back at him. A smile lit her entire face suddenly, then she whirled, long hair flying, as she disappeared into the night.

Ibiki walked to the door and shut it slowly, hearing the click as the latch caught. He rested a hand against the wood for a long moment, feeling every one of his forty-five years. Then, one corner of his mouth quirked up in an almost-smile, and he turned back to the living room.

_Good luck, Kakashi. You're going to need it._

XXX

“All right, you have your assignment,” Soriya announced to the class of male chunin. “Remember, your target must be willing. Or, at least willing to be persuaded.” She winked. “Those of you who target kunoichi from my other class may have an easier time, as they have been given the same assignment. Then again, they have the potential to be far more dangerous if uninterested. Be smart. Choose wisely. In any case, there are only eight of them, and fourteen of you. Some of you will, out of necessity, hunt elsewhere.”

She studied the blushing faces before her. Most found it expedient to look at the floor, the wall, or anywhere but in her eyes. She found it highly amusing.

“Also, I do not wish to hear about your escapades through the grapevine. If you are clumsy enough that it comes to my attention, you will fail. Subtlety is key.”

Soriya's gaze shifted to the closed door of the classroom. A soft knock sounded before the door opened. A messenger shinobi entered, bowing at the neck to Soriya.

“Please excuse the interruption, sensei. The Hokage felt you would like to receive this as soon as possible.” He offered her a small scroll with the Hokage's seal. Placing it in her hand, he bowed again, then exited the classroom, shutting the door behind him.

Soriya broke the seal, deftly unfolding the scroll. Her eyes traveled down the page. A smile slowly spread across her face.

“Good news, Soriya-sensei?” A pink-cheeked Naruto asked. She wondered if he'd been thinking about Hinata Hyuga. She hoped so. The soft-spoken kunoichi was possibly even less subtle about her feelings than Naruto.

“Of a sort,” she replied, gray eyes bright. “The Hokage has granted my request for private quarters near my family home. I can move in later today.” Her tone turned speculative as she considered them. “I don't suppose I could rely on any of you to assist me in moving my furniture?” Faces reddened and she added enticingly, “I'll treat for take-out ramen afterwards, of course.”

“I'm in!” shouted Naruto. “I'll use my Shadow Clone jutsu, and we'll be done in no time.”

Sasuke rolled his eyes. “Why are you volunteering for heavy lifting, idiot?”

“Hey!” Naruto exclaimed.

Soriya interjected smoothly before they could get going. “Does this mean you won't help me, Sasuke?” She smiled sweetly at the scowling ninja. “That's too bad. I was hoping you could ask Sakura to meet me at the Itasuki home at 3 o'clock. She promised to help me paint.”

Sasuke's mouth opened, then shut with a snap. He flushed slightly.

“Uh, sure sensei. I'll tell her. I mean, I'll bring her.” He shut up.

She arched a knowing brow, but graciously let him off the hook.

“Okay. Those who want to help, be there at three this afternoon. I'll see the rest of you tomorrow. Oh, and good hunting to you all. Class dismissed.”

Grinning inwardly, Soriya watched the chunin as they rose to depart. Muted grumbling, interspersed with Naruto's enthusiastic comments about how much ramen he was going to eat, could be heard as they filed out the doorway. As one who preferred to avoid unnecessary exertion, Shikamaru muttered, “Ugh. Moving furniture. What a drag.”

Soriya smiled at the back of his ponytailed head. She knew, despite his constant grumbling, that Shikamaru could be relied upon to help. Locking and trapping her desk, Soriya closed up the classroom as the last student disappeared around the corner.

“Time to drop in on Yori and Izumi,” she mused, heartened. “And order a boatload of ramen, apparently.”

Chuckling, she cast the translocation jutsu, fading slowly from sight.

_XXX_

With amused curiosity, Kakashi scrutinized the squad of chunin from behind the pages of his book. The three had been acting strangely ever since their morning classes. Sakura could hardly look at Sasuke without blushing a bright, cherry red.

_Nothing unusual there. Still...she hasn't been so blatantly obvious in quite a long time. We all thought she'd gotten over her crush._

However, this time Sasuke seemed to be affected as well, and that _was_ unusual.

The elite jonin watched as Sakura, running full speed, weaved in and out amongst the trees. Unerringly, she flung a kunai at Sasuke. Instead of ducking, the dark-haired ninja snagged the missile out of the air inches from his face and took off after her. Sharingan eyes flared red as the Uchiha tracked the strawberry-haired kunoichi's erratic movements, pacing her through the forest. Suddenly, his wrist snapped forward, releasing the kunai in a deadly arc.

The weapon honed in on its target, pinning the long hem of Sakura's tunic to a tree. The abrupt cessation of motion jerked her leftwards, off her feet. Falling to hands and knees, she rolled instinctively to grab the kunai. Her right hand grasped the hilt of the knife, attempting to free herself. Too late.

Almost as soon as he completed the throw, Sasuke was on her. One hand gripped her fingers, imprisoning them against the hilt of the kunai, while his right hand forced her other wrist to the ground beside her head. Kakashi could hear the kunoichi's shocked gasp as Sasuke straddled her hips, pinning her in place with his weight.

“What's he waiting for?” Kakashi wondered. “Take the scroll and get back to base!”

However, at the moment, the Uchiha heir seemed transfixed by Sakura's parted lips and heaving chest. The bemused jonin watched incredulously as Sasuke lowered his face toward hers.

_I wouldn't, if I were you._

Kakashi's eye crinkled up in amusement. Just then, Sakura appeared beside him, flipping the scroll into his lap.

“Mission accomplished,” she announced proudly.

Sasuke jerked in surprise, glancing over at a broadly grinning Sakura. She waved cheerfully. During his brief moment of distraction, the woman beneath him hooked her legs up and around his throat, yanking him backwards, off balance. He lost his grip on her hands and she sat up, taking the opportunity to slug him hard in the solar plexus.

Grinning sharply at the noise he made, she kicked out from under him, quickly ripping the hem of her shirt over the hilt of the kunai embedded in the tree trunk. Taking off like a shot, she sprinted for Kakashi's position.

Pulling himself slowly to his knees, Sasuke clutched his chest, gasping for air.

Kakashi winced in sympathy. Sakura's chakra-enhanced strength, combined with her knowledge of potent medical jutsu... He knew that more than the Uchiha's pride had to be hurting.

Sasuke looked up, eyes dark once again, as the real Sakura delivered her prize. Dispelling the image of her double, the kunoichi shrugged at him apologetically.

“Sorry, Sasuke. I win this time.”

Flushing, the chunin sat back on his haunches, angrily yanking the kunai out of the tree. He grumbled, “I should've seen through that illusion.” His anger, being mostly self-directed, faded as he conceded, “Your genjutsu is really improving. Otherwise you never would've gotten me with that move.”

Before Sakura could reply, Kakashi interjected smoothly, “You were distracted even before she cast the illusion jutsu. And Naruto was so distracted earlier, he allowed Sakura to sneak up, clobber him, then steal the scroll.” He glanced at the kunoichi, idly curious. “What illusion did you cast to hold Naruto's attention? A bowl of ramen?”

“Oh that,” Sakura giggled. “I conjured a shadow clone that looked like Hinata and sent her to talk to him. It was pretty easy because she mostly just gets nervous and shy around him and doesn't say much.”

“Huh. It figures.” Sasuke snorted as he approached. “That damned homework assignment is going to cause no end of trouble.”

“Hmm? Homework assignment? Sounds interesting. What is it?” Kakashi queried, expression innocent. He bet he could guess, but it was more fun this way.

“Ah, um,” Sasuke, flustered, turned to Sakura for help. Then he flushed, looking away.

She colored prettily, stuttering, “We, um, we're not allowed to say. Soriya-sensei's orders.” Sakura shrugged, offering a weak smile. A thought struck her. “Oh! She's moving today at three. You could come and ask her yourself if you really want to know. Actually, we should get going now, if we want to be on time.” She narrowed seagreen eyes at the elite jonin. “I'm sure you'll show up late, after all the work is done.”

A silver brow arched in mock dismay. “I'm hurt, Sakura, that you have so little faith in me. Where are her new quarters?”

Rolling her eyes at him, she replied, “In the forest, to the west of the Itasuki place. It's fairly isolated. I asked why she wanted to be so far from town, and she said people's emotions were just too noisy. Does that make sense to you?” The kunoichi waited expectantly for his answer.

The Copy Ninja said only, “Well, as an empath, she often feels strong emotions from those around her, almost like a physical force. Usually, she can block them out, but it does require effort. Well-trained and shielded minds like ours are less troublesome, but the regular townsfolk sometimes wear on her. At least, she used to complain about it when she was a teenager. I don't imagine it's changed much since then. She probably wanted remote quarters to be able to relax.” _And to keep watch over Yori, Izumi, and Iori, I'll wager._

“Now, I have an errand to run, so why don't you and Sasuke head over to Soriya's. Don't forget to pick up Naruto on your way,” he admonished.

“Oh, right,” Sakura laughed. “I hope he doesn't have a headache. I hit him pretty hard. Let's go, Sasuke.” She tugged on his arm playfully.

“Huh,” the Uchiha grunted, falling into step beside her, hands in the pockets of his white shorts. Kakashi caught the speculative glance he threw the kunoichi before his eyes settled once more on the path in front of him.

_Curiouser and curiouser. I can't wait to hear Soriya's explanation for this!_

He meditated briefly on several methods that might be used to entice her into spilling the beans. He'd given her a couple of days to think about their relationship; not pressuring her to resume where they'd left off hadn't been easy at all. He'd had to resist the urge to just “casually” show up wherever she went. ANBU was already tailing her; she didn't need another stalker.

He'd settled for bringing her lunch at school, careful to keep their conversations light. Perhaps tonight would be a good time to see if she'd moved past her fear. Remembering her passionate reaction to his touch, the Copy Ninja's stomach tightened. Thus properly motivated, he performed the signs for the translocation jutsu, disappearing in a puff of smoke.

XXX

“Phew! Finished!”

Soriya groaned in relief, tossing the paint roller into the cobalt-spattered pan on the floor. Idly, she wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand, asking of the empty room, “Is it me, or is it hot in here?”

The room remained silent. Eyeing her paint-splattered shorts and tank top with disfavor, the kunoichi muttered, “Should've worn blue, not black. And it _is_ hot in here,” she decided grumpily.

Walking to the French doors that led to the balcony, Soriya threw them wide, careful of the recently painted white trim. The evening breeze spilled into the room, cooling her overheated skin. Soriya closed gray eyes as the fresh air swirled her long pigtails to and fro.

“I knew there was a reason I wanted a house on a hill,” she sighed blissfully. She crossed to the railing, surveying the forested view. In the clearing below, she could see the back of Yori's house. The kitchen light glowed warmly, although the rest of the house was dark. She wondered if Naruto was still down there eating. She chuckled, remembering how big his eyes had gotten, seeing all the ramen she'd had delivered to Yori's. She'd deliberately over-ordered. Even so, he'd put quite a dent in it. She'd heard the stories from his former teachers, Iruka and Ebisu, about his ability to consume large quantities of ramen. Fortunately, Izumi also contributed some homemade pies to the effort. Soriya couldn't imagine anyone would be hungry after all that food.

As if to prove her wrong, her stomach chose that exact moment to growl loudly. “Yeah, yeah,” she patted it. “I've been a little busy here. Pipe down.”

Turning, she strode through the bedroom, down the hall to the kitchen. Melon-colored walls and cream appliances greeted her, the colors lightening her mood as she approached the refrigerator. Opening the door, she perused the sparse contents: an opened container of ramen, half the remains of a cherry pie, and four bottles of water.

“Note to self, a trip to the market is definitely in order.”

As most of the utensils were still packed in boxes stacked in the corner of the kitchen, she opted for a piece of pie. Flipping her kunai out from the sheath at her lower back, she deftly cut a generous wedge from the pan and put it on a small plate, then rinsed and wiped the knife on a dish towel, returning it to its sheath. Nudging the slice of pie point first over the edge of the plate, she chewed idly, ambling back down the hallway to the balcony. She propped her hip against the railing in contentment. The pie was delicious, and she ate it slowly, savoring every bite. Licking sticky cherry filling from her fingers, Soriya's gaze returned once more to Yori and Izumi's house.

Setting the plate down on the wide wooden railing, she drew a deep, cleansing breath, closing dilated gray eyes. She cast chakra outward in a fine net, scanning the surroundings for signs of human life. In the distance, she felt Yori, Izumi, and Iori, their mental signatures warm and comforting. Iori's was muted.

_Probably asleep._

Shifting focus to the north, she sensed a faint covert presence. Concentrating, she gleaned no hostility from it, merely the perception of wary vigilance.

_My ANBU watchdogs. At least they have the courtesy to grant me some breathing space._

Mentally pulling back, she moved on to the western forest, directly behind her house. Something flickered briefly in her mind's eye, but it vanished as she attempted to home in on it.

“Huh.”

It had to be big, to project any significant mental signature at that distance. Bear, maybe? In any case, it had been faint and unfamiliar, so she did not linger.

Shifting southward, a very familiar presence caused her to tense slightly, fingers gripping the rail. Trepidation mingled with excitement coursed through her as she called chakra to accentuate her night vision. A stand of trees fifty meters to her right warranted strict scrutiny.

A dark-clad figure with a shock of silver hair waved jauntily from the branches of a large oak. A wry grin crossed Soriya's lips and she blinked, readying a flippant remark. In that split second, Kakashi vanished from his position. Falling naturally into a ready stance, Soriya's hand moved automatically to the small of her back.

“Now is that any way to greet a guest?” Kakashi drawled from the balcony corner where he crouched easily on the wooden railing. “Especially one bearing gifts?” Slowly, he brought his left hand out from behind his back. A round cobalt bowl balanced on his palm. It spilled over with daisies, honeysuckle, and blue cornflowers.

The kunoichi flushed as she straightened, eyes flicking from the flowers to his face in surprise. She hid momentary confusion in sardonic humor.

“It's the best way to greet uninvited guests, I've found.” The mirth in her eyes robbed the words of their sting. She admitted, “Sakura figured you'd be dropping by sometime tonight, after all the work was done. Her words, not mine.” She gave a short laugh. “Seems the more things change, the more they stay the same,” she teased. “But, I'm glad you decided not to wait half a year before sending a housewarming gift.”

She caught the subtle shift in his glance as he recognized the choker she wore. There was something almost...possessive...in his dark eye, but he reigned it in quickly, hopping lightly down from his perch. Winking mischievously, he offered her the flowers, grin hidden behind his mask.

Cursing inwardly at the milk-pale complexion that accompanied red hair, and its inherent inability to disguise her sudden blush, the kunoichi forced a serene smile to her lips. Reaching for the bowl, she shielded her mind tightly against stray thoughts, while perversely wishing she knew what he was thinking. Taking the vase gingerly, her fingertips brushed against the warmth of his hands. Swallowing, she remembered how gentle and strong they were. Tension pooled in her lower abdomen. Suddenly, she felt too warm.

“I have the perfect place for these.” Her voice sounded overly cheerful, as she tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.

_What on earth is wrong with me?_

Retreating to the bedroom, Soriya placed the flowers on the high mahogany dresser just inside the doorway. She inhaled the scent of honeysuckle, fussing unnecessarily with the arrangement. She didn't understand her sudden agitation; it annoyed her.

_It's only Kakashi, for cryin' out loud! You've known him for years. Don't get so worked up over one little kiss and some flowers!_

Contrarily, the irritation soothed her jittery nerves. She realized the silver-haired shinobi had not followed her into the room. For the first time, the telepath wondered if she was reacting to the elite jonin's turbulent emotions, and not merely her own unspoken desires.

It was difficult to tell. She'd been in love with the man for years, after all. The fact of which, she knew, he could not be unaware. Yet, he had never acted on her feelings, or his.

Until now.

Clearly, the dynamic of their relationship was changing.

Soriya's heart began to pound. Glancing speculatively at the attractive man leaning casually against her railing, the kunoichi's eyes narrowed. He'd perfected this pose of aloof placidity over the years. Just now, it annoyed her. She wanted to rattle him—to see if he felt the same anticipatory tension as she. She hid a dark smile.

_So, Kakashi... Are you really as calm, cool, and collected as you appear? I wonder..._

She decided to throw caution to the winds and test him. She'd worry about the consequences later.

XXX

Kakashi leaned against the railing, arms crossed over his chest, blithely observing the kunoichi's discomfiture.

_Serves her right._

Although he did not think it showed, he was having difficulty leashing his ardor around her. He'd dreamed about her again last night. The beautiful redhead wasn't helping his sleep any. He felt on-edge, tense—as if he were waiting for something to happen.

Watching her eat a piece of pie earlier had wreaked havoc with his concentration. For a moment, as she licked the remnants of cherry pie filling off each individual fingertip, he'd actually suspected her of deliberately toying with him.

But, upon further scrutiny, amid musings of an appropriate punishment for such taunting, he discarded the notion. Her subsequent scan of the area had been careful and meticulous. He'd marked the slight changes in body language as she cataloged family, ANBU, and himself. He wondered briefly what had caused her to hesitate in the western quadrant, but had not worried overmuch as she'd quickly shrugged it off and moved on. He'd spied the sudden stiffening of her posture the instant she discovered him; he would swear it was not feigned.

_Good thing, too._

He reflected on how he would already have exacted revenge for the earlier teasing, had it been deliberate.

When he crossed the forest, leaping to her balcony, he'd been both pleased and saddened to see she did not let down her guard, even for him. It was a bittersweet feeling.

But desire surged again when he marked the choker she wore. Though the gift had never been intended to proclaim ownership of any sort, seeing it wrapped around her throat evoked a primal response in him. He wanted to kiss her again, tangle his hands in that glorious hair, and leave marks of passion on her soft skin. The low cut tank top and loose shorts she wore were not aiding his self-control. Her blush was very becoming as she took the flowers from him. He found himself wondering just how far down that blush extended.

Once she finished placing the flowers, he pushed off the railing, stepping toward the doorway. Hesitating on the threshold to her bedroom, he watched as she walked slowly toward him. There was something sly in her smile as arms reached languidly above her head, grasping opposite elbows in a feline stretch. The movement caused her back to arch, drawing his avid gaze to her breasts. Feeling his groin tighten, the Copy Ninja took a deep breath.

_She did that on purpose._

He swallowed, hands opening and closing reflexively.

The kunoichi walked past him to the railing. She turned to face him, a knowing look in her eyes.

_Well, well... She knows._

His pulse quickened as he decided to respond in kind. Taking a step toward her, his hands casually ran through the signs of the Hidden Mist jutsu for summoning fog. Soriya's eyes glinted as she recognized the spell. Raising an eyebrow, she rested palms flat against the railing on either side of her.

“What do you think you're doing?”

The fog rolled in from the mountain, obscuring their surroundings in a haze of white. Pulling off his fingerless gloves, the elite jonin stepped closer. He tugged his mask down below his chin.

“I don't think ANBU needs to watch me kiss you senseless,” he replied huskily. His lips curved in satisfaction at her sharp intake of breath. Deliberately, he moved into her personal space. Although tall for a woman, Soriya still had to tilt her head back to look up at him. She made no attempt to avoid him, though her gray eyes widened slightly.

Searching the redhead's face intently, Kakashi took her wary stillness for permission to proceed. Slowly, his left hand reached out, carefully wrapping itself in the silken strands of a long pigtail. Gently but firmly, he tugged her to him. She went unresisting, as the fingers of his other hand lightly traced over a streak of blue paint along her jaw. Her skin was as satiny soft as he remembered. The scent of honeysuckle rose from her, and he breathed in deeply. Staring into smoky gray eyes, he murmured, “What are you doing to me?”

Her lips parted, as if to answer, but his mouth descended suddenly, silencing her.

He'd meant to keep the kiss gentle, undemanding. But when she sighed against him, hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, he couldn't help himself. Deepening the kiss, he rode out the wave of desire that threatened to swamp him. Not wanting to scare her, he fought to control his rising passion.

_Gods... Soriya..._

Her lips, soft and warm, opened under his tender assault.

_She tastes like cherries._

He groaned as she pressed against him, tongue delving into his mouth in return. A kiss was just not enough, he decided, heart pounding madly in his ears. Sweeping his tongue along her lower lip, he pulled back, panting. He studied her face, needing to know if she was as affected as he. Finding a matching passion in the kunoichi's kiss-swollen lips and lowered lashes, his hands slid to her hips, easily lifting her to the wooden railing. She gasped as his arousal pressed against her warmth.

“See what you're doing to me.” His voice was low and urgent, almost demanding.

Long legs encircled the Copy Ninja's hips, pulling him closer. With a groan, his mouth crashed down on hers once more. He could feel her hand slide down his chest, unzipping the green vest he wore. His heart thudded loudly under her palm and she looked up at him with wide, luminous eyes.

“Kakashi,” she breathed.

His fingers tightened on her waist. Briefly, he regretted the thin layers of fabric between them. The urge to touch, to taste her was overwhelming. Sliding his cheek along the redhead's jawline, he nibbled a path to the delicate skin of her throat. Teasing the flesh above and below the choker, he ran his hands over the swell of her hips, up to her ribs. Breathing heavily against her neck, surrounded by her intoxicating scent, he hesitated, struggling for control. Her pulse raced under his tongue, and he knew they were moments away from the point of no return. But emotionally...was she ready?

Gods, how he wanted her to be ready!

“Kakashi...” Soriya's voice, high and breathy, sounded in his ear.

The pleading tone was one he had never heard from her. Abruptly, it severed the last thread of his control.

Eager hands slid up from her ribs to cup full breasts, testing their weight in his palms. His thumbs grazed the stiffening nipples and she gasped, arching into him as if asking for more. His clever fingers tugged and stroked the tips into hardened peaks, and her head fell back, pigtails trailing. Her hands in his hair tensed, exerting a subtle downward pressure, trying to lower his lips to where she wanted them. He resisted slightly, smiling against the skin of her throat.

Nibbling along her collarbone, his right hand trailed up, stroking under the spaghetti strap of her top. Deliberately slowing his movements, he slid the strap over and down the kunoichi's shoulder, drawing a low moan from her. She rocked her pelvis against him, and he groaned in response.

“Patience,” he breathed, hand skimming down her breast, taking fabric with it. His hungry gaze devoured the sight of her passion-filled face and heaving chest. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, warm breath ghosting over the satiny skin.

She shivered at the almost-contact, panting, “Kakashi, please...” Tugging his hair insistently, she tried to pull him closer.

He chuckled, a masculine sound that rumbled in his chest. She shivered in anticipation. Delicately, his warm tongue reached out to tease the aching nipple. She gasped at the intimate touch, eyes drifting closed. Suckling her more fully, he drew the remaining strap down her other shoulder, stroking and rolling her flesh between his fingers. She felt wonderful in his hands—full and warm and soft. Her short, breathy sighs excited him further still.

Reacting to the kunoichi's rising frenzy, Kakashi placed a trail of open-mouthed kisses back up her body. Returning to her mouth, he kissed her urgently, hand drifting to the waistband of her shorts. Deftly undoing the fastenings, he slid questing fingers inside, skimming over the damp fabric of her panties. She whimpered, eyes closed, as he stroked her through the thin material.

“Soriya...” he murmured, holding her close.

She moaned in response, prompting him to seek more direct contact. He wanted to feel the source of her passion, slick and swollen, against his fingertips. Rubbing small circles against her, he was rewarded by the low cry of his name. The redhead's hips rolled urgently as she braced her palms against the wide railing for balance. His own breathing was becoming more ragged by the moment, the scent of her arousal and the small, frantic noises she was making driving him perilously close to the edge.

Dropping his lips to the place where her neck and shoulder joined, he sucked firmly on the skin, drawing it into his mouth. She gasped in surprise, nails of one hand digging into his shoulder as she arched toward him. Sensing she was close, he pressed one finger, and then a second, slowly into her, wringing a soft cry from her lips. Stroking more insistently with his thumb, his fingers slid in and out, causing her head to fall back, eyes closing in ecstasy. Gradually, she tensed, taut as a bowstring. The low moan building in her throat—he wanted badly to hear it.

“Look at me,” Kakashi ordered roughly, tone of voice at odds with the intimacy of his touch. His left hand tugged her hair insistently.

Gray eyes snapped open, flashing like lightning. Soriya's climax ripped through her, moan transforming into an ecstatic cry. Embracing her tightly, Kakashi slowed his movements, waiting for the aftershocks of her orgasm to subside. Withdrawing gently, he cradled her against his chest. Aroused almost to the point of pain, he kissed her tenderly then sighed, “Gods, the noises you make.” He gazed at her in wonder. “Do you even realize the effect you have on me?”

Looking up at him with sultry, satisfied eyes, she opened her mouth to reply. A sharp gasp tore through her instead. Pain ripped through her abdomen and she clutched at his shoulder for balance, wrapping an arm around her middle.

Alarmed, Kakashi cried, “Soriya! What's wrong?”

Turning unfocused eyes to him, she uttered a single name.

“Izumi...”

Snapping back to herself, Soriya shoved him backwards as she hopped off the railing to fumble quickly with her clothes. She forced down panic to explain.

“It's Izumi. The baby. Something's wrong.” Her heart raced in anxiety. “I have to go to her!”

Seeing the fear in her eyes, Kakashi grabbed her arm before she could vault the railing to the ground below.

“Tell me what I can do.”

Her eyes flew to him gratefully. “Go to the hospital and bring the doctor. Dr. Ayame Higuri,” she entreated. “Please, hurry!”

He nodded, releasing her. She jumped from the balcony to the ground, racing through the trees to the back of Yori and Izumi's house. Kakashi stared after her for a brief moment; she was moving almost too quickly for his normal eye to follow. He'd never seen her so panicked, save once. She'd been ten years old.

Hurriedly, he cast the translocation jutsu, disappearing in a puff of smoke.


	4. Chapter 4

Soriya entered the darkened house, senses extended to test the surroundings. A muffled cry sounded from the master bedroom in the back. Racing down the hallway, the kunoichi burst into the room.

Yori, worry clearly etched in his brow, crouched over his pregnant wife. Red-faced and panting, the dark-haired woman lay prone on the bed. Clutching her swollen belly, she seemed to be in the throes of a powerful contraction.

“Yori.”

In the process of wiping Izumi's sweaty brow with a damp cloth, Yori jerked in surprise. Relief flooded his face.

“Soriya! Thank the gods you're here! Izumi's in labor, but something's wrong. I'm afraid to leave her to fetch Dr. Higuri.”

“Don't worry. I've already sent Kakashi. They'll be here soon.” Crossing the room, she perched on the other side of Izumi. The pain and fear radiating from the woman was strong, almost tangible.

“Soriya,” she panted harshly, “my water broke a few minutes ago. There was blood in it, and everything's happening too fast... Iori wasn't like this. I'm scared.” She gasped sharply, cringing, as another contraction ripped through her.

The kunoichi reached out a hand to her forehead, staring into the woman's frightened eyes. “Izumi, look at me,” she cajoled, gray eyes dilating. Vanilla scent rose in the room as Soriya exerted her will on the panicked woman. “I need you to relax. Slow down your breathing. That's it...calm. You're safe here. Yori and I will help you, and the doctor is on the way.” She spoke slowly, projecting tranquility into her friend's agitated mind.

As Izumi's fear quieted, the pain of the contractions lessened to a more manageable degree. Sliding a palm from Izumi's sweat-plastered forehead to her cheek, Soriya soothed, “I'm going to try and sense the baby now. Keep breathing slowly, in and out.”

Holding Izumi's gaze with her own, the kunoichi slipped a hand under the hem of the cotton nightgown, resting it against the convex curve of her belly. She could feel the muscles tighten and relax—a rhythm that was clearly increasing in frequency as she timed the contractions.

_Not good. I've got to slow this down..._

Sending a slender thread of mental energy to the pain center in the laboring woman's brain, Soriya numbed some of the nerve bundles, dampening the pain's apex. Splitting her focus, she projected chakra directly into the womb. Closing her eyes in concentration, Soriya gleaned an image of the fetus. Her fingers tensed against Izumi's swollen abdomen.

_The baby's breech. This is bad._

Pulling back mentally, she looked at Yori. “The baby is okay, but in the breech position. We have to keep her from pushing until the doctor gets here. I can manage for awhile, but you should get towels, hot water, and antiseptic ready, just in case. I've got to maintain physical contact with her at all times. Do you understand?”

Yori's face was pale and frightened, but all he said was, “I'll get everything ready. It'll just be a minute.” Hurriedly, he left the room to gather the requested items.

Soriya smiled comfortingly at Izumi, emanating calm. “It's going to be okay.”

_Come on, Kakashi. Don't let me down._

XXX

The Copy Ninja appeared suddenly in the lobby of the hospital, startling the dark-haired nurse staffing the front desk. Before she could chastise him, he spoke urgently, “I need Dr. Ayame Higuri. It's an emergency. Her patient, Izumi Itasuki, has gone into labor at home, but there appear to be complications.”

Suddenly all efficiency, the white-clad nurse moved quickly to the phone, paging Dr. Higuri with the STAT code. She replaced the receiver and waited, curiously studying the silver-haired shinobi. Moments later, the phone rang. Picking up the receiver, she quickly relayed the message. Kakashi noted the tightening of her expression as she listened to the voice on the other end.

“I understand, Doctor. I'll do so at once.” Disconnecting the line, she looked at him soberly. “Dr. Higuri is currently tied up in another emergency, but I'll page the on-call doctor.”

He nodded tersely, waiting while she punched the numbers. She replaced the receiver in its cradle.

Instead of the expected ringing phone, a man wearing green scrubs rounded the corner. He appeared to be in his late twenties, with short, brown hair, neatly cut. His eyes were a piercing blue, sharp with intelligence. His voice, though unhurried, was direct and to the point.

“What's the emergency, Hanna?”

The nurse, looking relieved to see him, nodded toward Kakashi.

“Dr. Ryusuki, this man was sent for Dr. Higuri, but she's dealing with another emergency at the moment. He says it's urgent, a complicated labor.”

Shifting his gaze to the masked shinobi, he caught the man's slight start at the mention of his name.

“Do I know you?” he inquired, instantly curious. The man seemed familiar, somehow.

“You are Enya Ryusuki?”

“I am.”

“I'm Kakashi Hatake. Soriya Kanzin sent me to fetch Dr. Higuri to Izumi Itasuki's bedside. She suddenly went into labor at home, but there's a problem. Will you come?”

The doctor's eyes widened at the mention of Soriya's name. He studied the ninja intently. “So you're Kakashi. Now I understand why you seem familiar, athough I recognized your name by reputation, of course.” He did not elaborate further, leaving the Copy Ninja to ponder his meaning. “Yes. I'll come at once.”

He directed the nurse, “Hanna. I'll be leaving for the Itasuki residence immediately. Please ask Dr. Higuri to meet me there at her earliest convenience. And page Dr. Yoto. Ask him to cover the calls here, as I'll likely be awhile.”

“Yes, Doctor.” Hanna nodded reassuringly at Kakashi, then focused her full attention on completing the doctor's instructions.

Ryusuki turned to Kakashi. “Let me get my bag. I presume you translocated here?”

The elite jonin nodded affirmatively.

“Good. It's saved us some time, at least.” The doctor spoke as he walked, trusting the ninja to follow as he went in search of needed equipment. “I cannot travel by that means, so our return will, by necessity, take longer.”

“Leave that to me,” Kakashi assured him, thinking that his chakra-enhanced strength should be more than sufficient to carry the trim doctor a few miles, if necessary. Although, if Ryusuki had traveled with a Retrieval Unit, he could likely keep the pace on his own.

_Hang on, Soriya, Izumi. We're coming._

XXX

At the Itasuki residence, tension mounted. Soriya was finding it increasingly difficult to suppress both Izumi's pain and the contractions. She opened a wider flow of chakra to the laboring woman on the bed, but knew she couldn't keep it up for long. Already, the telepath's breaths were coming in short gasps, perspiration trickling from her temples to her jaw. Yori reached across Izumi to wipe Soriya's brow with a cool cloth.

“You okay?” he asked, concern in his voice.

Not wanting to waste breath on a reply, she nodded once, sharply. Swallowing, she tried to smile reassuringly, pushing fear to the back of her mind.

_Kakashi, where are you?_

Just as she thought it, the approach of two people outside the house caught her attention. Instantly recognizing the Copy Ninja, she let out a sigh of relief.

“They're here, Yori. Let them in.”

The auburn-haired man left quickly to comply. He returned moments later, Kakashi and a scrub-clad man entering the room behind him. Soriya flinched, belatedly identifying the second mental signature. She'd been so focused on Kakashi's arrival, the doctor had not overly concerned her. But now, looking up from the bed, her hands tightened imperceptibly on Izumi.

“You!”

Pausing on the threshold, Enya Ryusuki assessed the scene with a detached, critical eye. He sniffed, recognizing the vanilla scent in the air. It was only too obvious what Soriya was doing; he wondered if she realized the toll it would take on her.

Knew for a fact she wouldn't care.

Lips thinning, he stepped forward, availing himself of the antiseptic provided. Quickly donning surgical gloves, he strode to the end of the bed and knelt, addressing the patient. He ignored the glare the kunoichi shot him.

“Izumi, I'm Dr. Enya Ryusuki. Dr. Higuri has been delayed by an unavoidable emergency, but I'll take good care of you until she can get here,” he reassured the laboring woman. “Now, let me see how you're progressing.”

Bluntly, Soriya offered, “The baby's breech. I've slowed the contractions and decreased her pain, but...” she paused for breath, “it's getting harder to maintain control. The contractions are escalating—in frequency, strength, and duration.”

Panting, she hung her head, a long pigtail swinging forward to hide her expression. She struggled with herself a moment, then entreated softly, “Enya, please. Help her.”

The doctor offered a small smile, replying quietly, “It's why I came.”

Curiously, Kakashi observed the body language between the two. It was obvious their conversation was fraught with hidden meaning. The Hokage claimed that Soriya had tried to reject the medic-nin's healing, even to save her life. Yet now, she begged the doctor—by his first name—to aid her loved one.

Clearly, they knew each other well, although it was apparent they were not exactly friends. Another mystery. After this crisis passed, he would definitely be speaking with the good doctor.

Ryusuki sat back, withdrawing a blood-streaked glove from the woman on the bed. Gravely, he looked at Yori.

“I'm afraid the situation is serious. The baby is indeed breech, and one foot has begun to protrude from the cervix. The other leg appears to be wedged at an upward angle. I will have to perform an emergency C-section.”

Izumi whimpered. Yori's face grayed noticeably and he swallowed.

“Do whatever you need to do to save them, Doctor. Please,” he begged.

Nodding solemnly, the doctor turned to Soriya. She returned his gaze warily.

“Soriya. I understand that what I am about to ask is distasteful, especially considering our recent history. Believe that I would not ask it of you if it were not absolutely needful.” He stared at her intently, willing her to sense the sincerity of his words.

After a moment, she nodded. “Ask.”

“I want you to sense the baby's position and convey it to me, so I can safely make the incision. Can you do this?” His voice was neutral, but Kakashi thought he read sympathy in the man's blue gaze.

“You realize I'll have to touch you,” she replied, voice low. “And you will be touching me.”

Gravely, he nodded. “I'm willing to risk it if you will.” His lip quirked wryly. “Also, I promise not to heal you afterwards, even if you need it.”

The kunoichi rolled her eyes at him, then sobered. “I may have to hold you to that. I've never tried splitting my concentration among so many.” _Liar._

Restlessly, she shrugged her shoulders at the uncomfortable feeling she was forgetting something. She cautioned, “I may not be able to maintain it. You'll have to work quickly. Remove one of your gloves,” she added, as an afterthought. Settling herself more comfortably on the bed, she breathed in deeply, shoring up strength.

Not wasting any time, the medic-nin looked at Kakashi. “I'll need your assistance. Please open my bag and unroll the blue wrap, so that my instruments lie flat. Be ready to hand them to me as I ask for them. Scrub with the antiseptic first, then pass me the iodine.”

The Copy Ninja moved quickly to comply. Yori squeezed his wife's hand, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Everything's going to be okay. Don't be afraid.”

Izumi turned fear-filled eyes to him, but only nodded, biting her lip. She looked at Soriya, who smiled reassuringly.

“Trust Enya,” she urged. “He truly is an outstanding doctor. One of Lady Tsunade's best. And I'll be with you, every step of the way.” Glancing over at the medic-nin, she asked, “Are you ready? Best not to wait, I think.”

Dousing the surgical field, Soriya's hand, and his bare left hand with iodine, Enya looked at Kakashi. “Scalpel.” As the masked shinobi handed him the instrument, he addressed Soriya, “Ready when you are. Tell me what you need from me.”

“Put your hand on her belly, right above where you want the incision,” Soriya directed. “Then wait for me. Don't touch me until I'm ready,” she warned.

Inhaling deeply, the kunoichi closed dilated eyes, thinning the stream of chakra to Izumi's mind. She winced in sympathy as the pain of the contractions surged, making the woman gasp. Not wasting breath or time to apologize, Soriya placed her left hand carefully next to Enya's, over the throbbing womb. Tenuously, she sent a fine net of chakra down into her friend's body, fixing the resulting image of the baby's position in her mind.

_Now, the tricky part._

Slowly, so slowly, she twitched the fingers of her left hand over to Enya's, overlapping them. Connecting the net from the infant directly to Enya's chakra network, she asked tersely, “Get anything?”

The doctor closed his eyes, concentrating. “No. I can't see it.”

“I was afraid of that.” She grimaced. “I'll have to project the link directly. Get ready.”

Sending a thread of chakra from her mind to Enya's, the telepath took a deep breath, then dropped her mental barriers. Instantly, the power bucked and rippled, overwhelming her mind with too much data. She cried out, as flickering images from both Enya and Izumi assaulted her. Hunched over the bed, she squeezed her lids tightly closed, the onslaught of memories too rapid and mixed up for her to sort out. It felt as though she were trying to see out of three pairs of eyes simultaneously. Dizzy, she swallowed, jaw clenching against sudden nausea.

“Soriya!” Kakashi called her name frantically.

“Don't touch her!” Enya warned sharply, eyes on the straining redhead. She's juggling input from three minds; she can't handle a fourth. Give her time to stabilize.”

Kakashi stood over the besieged kunoichi as she battled to separate Izumi, Enya, and the infant, from herself. From what he could tell, the struggle appeared brutally intense. He ground his teeth in helpless frustration as a thin trickle of blood spilled from the corner of her mouth.

She'd bitten through her lower lip.

Minutes dragged by. The only sounds in the room: the groans of the laboring woman on the bed, and the rapid, hitching gasps of the scarlet-haired telepath beside her.

Inside the pandemonium of Soriya's mind, a small island of darkness appeared amongst myriad images. She reached for it desperately. Sinking into blackness, the kunoichi felt blessed relief at the lack of images and coherent thought.

But not emotion, she realized.

_A sense of confusion, and, and...outrage?_

Suddenly, she knew where she was. The infant's brain knew no language, had no sight, but could still feel. Smiling in wonderment, Soriya greeted her niece.

_Hello, little one. I'm your Aunt._

She projected tranquility to the tiny mind.

_It's okay. I'd be confused and angry, too, if my home rudely started squeezing me, trying to push me out. Don't be afraid. Everything's going to be all right._

The infant's mind twitched in surprise. Soriya felt...curiosity?

_You'll see me soon enough, little one. There are a lot of people out here anxious to meet you._

She relayed a sense of anticipation to the infant, along with a warm surge of affection. She was pleased to note the infant's consciousness seemed calmer.

_See you very soon._

Drifting in comforting blackness, Soriya began to painstakingly reconstruct the mental pathway to Izumi. Envisioning a cobblestone path, she traveled along it to her friend's mind. She found, to her great surprise and relief, the tenuous connection still intact, if weakened. Sending a firmer thread of chakra to the brain and spinal column, she sank a fine mesh of chakra into the neurons responsible for relaying impulses from the lower extremities, temporarily blocking all pain sensation.

She smiled as Izumi relaxed, no longer in pain. The chakra nerve block wouldn't last more than a quarter hour, Soriya guessed, but she was unwilling to risk the paralysis a denser chakra mesh might cause. Fervently, she hoped fifteen minutes would be enough.

Gathering her mental “self,” Soriya raced back down the path to the void. Quickly and concisely, she threw up a barrier between Izumi and the infant's mind. Proceeding to build another road, she imagined symmetrical, white cement blocks and extended them toward Enya. Erecting a formidable wall of gray stone between the cobblestone and cement roads, she “stood” atop the barricade, scrutinizing it carefully for weaknesses.

It didn't budge or buckle.

Tentatively, the telepath reached down the road to Enya, projecting the image of the infant directly to his mind. She tried hard not to let miscellaneous thoughts slip through, but wasn't entirely certain she succeeded. Truly, at this point, she was just too tired to care.

_Here._

Her strained, weary voice sounded in his head, startling him momentarily.

_Take what you need, no more._

Sensing her genuine fatigue, Enya concentrated fiercely on the precise positioning of the infant. “Got it,” he grinned.

Smoothly, with no hesitation, he pulled the scalpel in a slow arc along the skin of Izumi's lower abdomen. The incision was perfect, and Enya shrugged off Soriya's hand, astutely noting the minute tremors coursing through her fingers. He pushed concern aside, focusing on the immediate task. Once the womb was opened, the delivery proceeded quickly, in textbook fashion.

Suctioning fluid from the infant's lungs, he caught Soriya's exhausted smile out of the corner of his eye. Her arms trembled with fatigue as she slumped back against the bed's headboard, but he thought she seemed different. Lighter, somehow.

He could not contemplate the change at that moment, because the baby in his arms let out an enraged squawk, then began to cry in earnest. Placing the red, squalling infant on its mother's chest, he expertly tied off the cord.

Passing the scissors to Yori, Enya proclaimed, “Congratulations! You have a precious little baby girl. Just snip right here,” he indicated to Yori, who snipped the umbilical cord cleanly through. The infant wailed again, causing the adults in the room to wince at the noise.

“She's healthy, and with an excellent pair of lungs, I might add,” Enya quipped. “Now, Izumi, let's get you closed up before the pain kicks in. You'll feel pressure, and some heat as I shrink the uterus and seal the wound. I'll leave you some pain medication. Take it easy for a few days. Your body uses a tremendous amount of energy to heal itself, and I'm telling it to do it faster,” the doctor explained. He glanced at the kunoichi.

“And you. You stay right where you are for the moment. Don't try to get up.”

But Soriya wasn't listening. All her luminous, gray eyes could see was the dark hair of the newborn life cradled safely in Izumi's arms. Tears spilled down the kunoichi's pale cheeks unheeded. She smiled so widely, a hidden dimple along the corner of her mouth revealed itself. Kakashi, observing her, thought she had never looked more beautiful—sweat, blood, and paint notwithstanding.

Yori's moist hazel eyes shone with affection and gratitude. “Soriya, thank you. Thank you so much. Words aren't enough, I know. But—”

Tenderly, the weeping kunoichi extended trembling fingers to Yori's lips, silencing him. “No. No, Yori. Thank _you._ You and Izumi both.” She paused, searching for words to describe the wonder she felt. “That was the most incredibly difficult, wonderful, _beautiful_ thing I've ever done. You can't know...” Her voice caught and she inhaled shakily. “I promise you that I will treasure the memory of this night for the rest of my life.”

Hesitantly, she lifted a shaking hand to hover over the dark head on Izumi's breast. At Izumi's encouraging nod, she stroked the crying infant's soft hair and skin.

_And thank you, little one. You may have saved us all._

The baby, feeling the brush of Soriya's mind, hiccuped. Her crying subsided into adorable breathy noises.

Izumi looked from Yori to Soriya. She offered shyly, “If you agree, we'd like to name her 'Sumiko.' After you, Yori's mother, and Emiko. What do you think?”

The kunoichi drew a deep breath, smiling through her tears. “I think it's a beautiful name for my beautiful niece.” She leaned forward, kissing Izumi's forehead gently. “Good work, Mom. Now, get some rest.”

Turning, Soriya shifted her calves off the edge of the bed. She stopped as dark, trouser-clad legs appeared in front of her.

“And just where do you think you're going?” Wry amusement could not quite disguise the concern in the Copy Ninja's voice.

“Home, where else?” Soriya responded crankily.

“I wouldn't stand up if I were you,” he warned. “You'll probably pass out.”

Passing a hand wearily over her eyes, the kunoichi grunted. “Look. I'm exhausted. All I want is a bath, then bed.” She considered that briefly. “Maybe not even in that order. I'm going home now. Get out of my way, Kakashi.”

“Listen to him, Soriya,” Enya cautioned. “You're in no condition to be going anywhere. Just lie down for a bit.”

“Quiet, you!” she snapped peevishly. “And don't try slipping me an energy boost on the sly. You promised. Now, for the last time...” she threatened, pushing up from the bed, “please, just get out of my way!”

Flattening her hand squarely in the middle of the Copy Ninja's chest, Soriya tried unsuccessfully to force him backwards. Suddenly, she halted, face draining of all color.

“Maybe this wasn't...such a good idea...” she offered weakly.

Darkness rapidly advanced from all sides, and she swayed forward on unsteady legs. The last thing Soriya felt before consciousness traitorously deserted her, was a strong arm closing around her back. Then she knew no more.

XXX

As the stubborn kunoichi gained her feet, Kakashi sighed resignedly, readying himself to catch her.

_Still headstrong as ever._

Mild anxiety gripped him when her face paled dramatically, but he was prepared when her eyes lost focus and she toppled forward into his chest. Gathering her close with one arm, he bent slightly, hooking his other arm under her knees. Lifting the unconscious woman easily, Kakashi settled her head carefully against his shoulder, tucking it under his chin. He glanced at Enya.

“I'll take her home and put her to bed. You can handle things here?”

Enya nodded affirmatively, not looking up from his healing. “Go. I'll be up to check on her once Dr. Higuri arrives. She just needs rest. She used a lot of chakra with this working, but she should be fine in a few days.” He locked gazes with the Copy Ninja. “Believe me, she's been through worse.”

“We'll speak later,” Kakashi promised neutrally. Looking toward Yori and Izumi, he offered, “Congratulations on your beautiful little girl. Don't worry about Soriya; I'll stay with her until she comes around.”

“Thanks, Kakashi,” Yori smiled gratefully. “And thanks for bringing the doctor so quickly. Another debt I owe you, that I can never repay.”

“Don't worry about it. Just take good care of Izumi, Iori, and that new baby,” Kakashi urged, walking to the doorway. Turning sideways to pass through with his precious burden, the elite jonin's silver brow crinkled up as he winked. “See you later.”

Before anyone could respond, he was gone.

XXX

Mere moments later, Kakashi stepped down lightly from the balcony railing into Soriya's bedroom. Walking across the darkened room to the far wall, he carefully settled the unconscious woman on the gauze-draped canopy bed. Turning the bedside lamp on low, he sat beside her. The dim illumination emphasized the darkness under the kunoichi's lowered lashes; the shadows looked like bruises, contrasting sharply with her alabaster skin. He traced the curve of a cheek with his fingertips, marveling at the amazing woman before him.

The image of her bending over Izumi, struggling to coordinate three other minds had filled him with fear. Fear he might lose her.

It had required supreme effort on his part not to drag her out of danger by the back of her shirt. Heeding Enya's warning, he'd stayed his hand, trusting her to handle the situation.

And she had, magnificently.

Pride welled within him as he recalled her exhausted, but triumphantly beautiful face, smiling through joyous tears. This woman she'd become... Her strength and courage took his breath away.

Stroking the kunoichi's cheek once more, Kakashi set about making her more comfortable. He whispered a minor jutsu, uncoiling the snakelike dagger twined around her right calf. He placed the weapon on the nightstand, within easy reach, then tugged off the redhead's knee-length black boots. Next, he removed the kunai sheath concealed at the small of her back, sliding it under the pillow, behind her right shoulder.

No ninja ever liked to be caught weaponless.

Of course, he had no intention of leaving her alone in such a defenseless state. Having depleted his own chakra to dangerous levels on more than a few occasions, he knew how drained she must be. Still, she'd probably try to get up tomorrow and he'd have to threaten to sit on her to keep her abed. That approach would probably work for at least one day. After that, all bets were off.

_She's even more stubborn than I was at her age._

Chuckling softly, he released the bands on the kunoichi's pigtails, freeing the crimson strands. Lifting her head slightly, he swept the heavy mass toward him, finger-combing the lengthy tresses. He'd always loved the vibrant color, and relished the silky feel of it in his hands. Secretly, he rejoiced that she'd let it grow over the years. He had conspicuously failed to add his voice whenever Kaito chided her about its length.

Sliding one of the bands over the thick mane in a low, loose ponytail, he added the second band about a foot down from the first. He recalled she often wore it that way for sleeping, preferring it over a braid. Staring down at the unconscious woman, Kakashi's groin tightened. He remembered how it had felt to hold her, touch her. Swallowing, he forced the amorous feelings aside.

_Down, boy. Nothing here for you tonight._

Placing the ponytail beside the kunoichi, he stood up, pulling the blue and cream comforter over from the other side of the bed. Laying it gently atop her, he stepped back, glancing curiously around the room.

The cobalt walls were bare, as Soriya had just finished painting. He wandered over to the tall mahogany dresser. Honeysuckle scent from the flowers he'd given her wafted over him. He hesitated, knowing it would be wrong to invade her privacy. Still...she was hiding something. Something dangerous.

He needed to know what it was.

Deciding it was easier to beg forgiveness if he were caught, than to ask permission, Kakashi brought his hands together, performing a jutsu designed to detect traps.

_Of course, I don't plan to get caught._

A soft glow emanated from the bottom drawer. Glancing back to make certain the dresser's owner was still unconscious, the Copy Ninja focused his concentration. Quickly determining the nature of the trap, he used the appropriate counterjutsu to disarm it. As he reached for the drawer handle, the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly rose, causing him to halt mid-motion.

Warily, he crouched down, looking under the dresser. Pulling a small flashlight from a vest pocket, he thumbed on the light. Reflecting back at him, a thin wire stretched from the bottom of the drawer to a spring-loaded aerosol can.

_Hmm... Probably knock-out gas. Paranoid, aren't we?_

Opening the drawer would yank the silver wire forward, triggering the release on the can's valve. Kakashi guessed the resulting cloud of fumes would be fast-acting and powerful enough to drop a snoop where he stood.

_Clever. But I haven't got time for a nap just now._

With precise, delicate movements, he disconnected the wire, letting it rest against the floor.

_Now, let's see what you're hiding._

Opening the drawer silently, the elite jonin commenced rifling through the contents. Spare kunai, shuriken, a coiled garrote, and various other weapons filled the space. There was a heavy bracelet made of dark-colored metal with a stylized “K” engraved on it's surface. Kakashi recognized it as the Kanzin clan crest. Flasks carefully labeled as poisonous, explosive, or acidic lined the back of the drawer, innocuous hair sticks lying next to them. Nothing appeared out of place, until he encountered a familiar black box. It was the flat, square container for the choker he'd given her.

Curious as to why she would hide it away, he opened the lid. Unsurprisingly, it was empty, as the choker was securely wrapped around Soriya's throat. Disappointed, he moved to replace the top, when something white caught his eye. A thin slip of paper seemed to be trapped between the box edge and velvet insert.

Carefully removing the lining, Kakashi discovered a folded note tucked inside. He opened it, scanning the contents. His eye widened, words on the paper striking him in the gut like a physical blow. Rereading it more slowly, he tried to absorb the impact of the note's sentiment.

_My dearest Kakashi,_

_If you are reading this, then I am most likely dead, having failed in my quest. Please forgive me for causing you pain. You always thought my obsession unwise and dangerous. It seems, to my sorrow, that you were right after all._

_I deeply regret that I never got to thank you for this beautiful choker and photo. It showed me just how well you understand me, and how much you truly care. Believe that I do know how much you care._

_I wish I could have taken your gift with me on this mission, but I cannot, in safety. So I leave it with one I trust, to deliver it to you should the worst occur. Perhaps he can find the words to explain what was in my heart. Though I think you already know._

_I wish I could see you, hear your voice one last time, but it was not to be. I hate that my last words to you were ones spoken in anger. Know that I thought of you every day, and wish, with all my heart, things had turned out differently. The grief you suffer...believe that I am sorry for it. I never wanted to hurt you this way._

_Help Yori and Izumi through this, if you can. Tell them both I love them. Hopefully, they already know it in their hearts. You should know it, too, although I never said the words. Now, there is no time. Perhaps it will be different for us in another life._

_Farewell, my love. I was always and ever, yours._

_Suki_

Kakashi gritted his teeth, fist crushing the thin paper. Stricken by an unfamiliar emotion, he stalked over to the bed and stared down at the unconscious woman.

He knew...had known...of her feelings, of course. She had never tried to hide them. However, he had not thought her aware of his regard. Not truly. He'd been cautious in concealing his affection, disinclined to take advantage of her trust and relative youth. Being seven years her senior, the difference had mattered a great deal to him at the time—a gap that seemed insignificant now. It appeared he had definitely underestimated her perceptive abilities.

Briefly, the Copy Ninja wondered how their lives might have been different had he been honest about his feelings. Would she have continued to pursue her quest for vengeance? Would she still have become this powerful, yet heartbreakingly fragile woman before him?

_What if she had died, Kakashi? What then?_

His heart constricted painfully in his chest.

_That will NOT happen. I won't allow it. Not now. Not after I've just found her again._

His resolve firmed, as he finally admitted to himself that he loved her. Loved her so deeply and desperately that the intense emotion frightened him. He was terrified of losing her. He hadn't been able to cope with the fear years ago, cutting ties with her in an effort to spare himself pain.

_Coward!_

But somehow, she had known, and forgiven his lack of courage. This brave, headstrong, loyal, beautiful woman.

How could she even _think_ of dying on him?

He wanted to shake her awake and kiss her breathless. Then make love to her over and over, until all she could do was cry out his name. The shinobi's hands opened and closed reflexively, as he struggled for control of his emotions.

_She will never, ever have cause to send me such an awful letter._

Angrily stuffing the crumpled paper into his pocket, Kakashi replaced the box lining and lid. Moving to the dresser, he restored the drawer's contents exactly, then shut it, carefully restringing the wire underneath to the aerosol can. Lastly, he recast the trapping jutsu, leaving the dresser just as he'd found it.

The activity calmed his tumultuous thoughts. Breathing deeply, he rolled head and shoulders, attempting to relax the tension he felt.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he stared down at the kunoichi, debating whether he should wet a cloth to clean her face. Dried blood and blue paint adorned her chin and jaw from earlier.

_Or am I just looking for any excuse to touch her?_

A sound from below the balcony outside made the decision for him. Moving swiftly to the shadow of the doorway, the elite jonin crouched, hand on the hilt of a kunai. He did not draw it. After a moment, he straightened.

“Come on up, Dr. Ryusuki,” he invited smoothly. “You and I have much to discuss, I think.”

The medic-nin vaulted the railing, landing gracefully in a three-point stance. Smoothly rising to his feet, he greeted the Copy Ninja.

“The Hokage told me to expect you, though I admit, I hadn't pictured such a dramatic scenario as the one this evening.” Blue eyes glinted briefly with mirth, then sobered. “Yes. I believe I know what you seek. I'll help as I can, although I don't have all the answers, unfortunately. Certain aspects of the situation I still don't understand myself.” He shook his head in frustration. Clearly, the doctor was not a man who tolerated ignorance, particularly his own.

“But first, let me check our stubborn patient.”

Kakashi stepped aside, allowing the medic-nin entry. Moving to stand over the unconscious woman, Enya lifted a hand to her forehead. In a flash, the silver-haired shinobi was beside him, gripping his wrist firmly.

“She said 'no healing,'” he warned, staring into the man's startled eyes. “She meant it.”

Wisely, Enya did not resist, keeping his arm limp within the protective jonin's grasp. He spoke evenly, holding the other man's gaze.

“I will not heal her. I gave my word, and if you knew me, you'd know that my word means something to me. And to her. She accepted it, after all. I merely wish to check her vital signs and determine just how much chakra she has depleted.” The blue eyes did not falter, and after a moment, Kakashi released him.

“Sorry.”

Nodding acceptance of the proffered apology, Enya rested a palm against Soriya's brow. Calling chakra, he stared down at her with a medic-nin's assessing eyes.

Standing off to one side, Kakashi watched the redhead's face for any sign of agitation, but she slept on, undisturbed by the contact. After a minute or two, the doctor's hand withdrew.

“Physically, she's fine, other than the chakra drain. And her own hardheadedness, of course.” His mouth quirked upwards in a half-hearted smile. “Judging from past experience, I'd estimate she _should_ be off her feet for at least three days. Which means she'll likely insist on being up and about in half that time,” he finished wryly, shaking his head. “Good luck getting her to take it easy. I never had much success in that department. Obedience is not one of her more noteworthy traits.”

Kakashi nodded, unconcerned. After all, he had leverage that the good doctor could not bring to bear. He thought about how he would enjoy applying it, if she pressed him. Aloud, he said, “Tell me about this 'past experience' with her. You were the healer Ibiki Morino used during her training, correct?”

The medic-nin ran a hand through short hair asking, “Mind if I sit? I've been on duty for over fourteen hours now, and I'm pretty tired.”

Without waiting for a reply, he walked to the small padded chair near the French doors. Hooking it with a foot, he pulled it over, turning it to face the masked shinobi, who leaned casually against the edge of the bed, arms crossed over his chest.

Settling into the chair, Enya sighed in relief, letting his head fall back a moment. He answered approvingly, “The Hokage told me you were pretty sharp. I'm glad to know your reputation does you justice.

“Yes, I was the healer assigned to work with Soriya, under the direction of Ibiki Morino. The training was highly classified, and the Hokage did not want just anyone 'laying hands' on Soriya, for obvious reasons.”

“What do you know of her power?” Kakashi queried.

“A complicated question. I'm not even sure Soriya knows the extent of what she can and cannot do.” He paused, then added quietly, “Therein lies a large part of her fear, I suspect. It's why she took so readily to the training. She desperately wanted a way to lock the power up inside herself. And we provided it, though perhaps not as reliably as we thought.” He frowned.

“You are aware that she's an empath, able to sense emotions at a distance. This is her commonly known ability. It's one that isn't even all that uncommon among shinobi. What's unusual about Soriya is that she can also read minds through touch, a skill known as 'contact telepathy.' The longer the duration of physical contact, the more information she can access. A brief touch might only allow her to glean surface thoughts. And with a well-trained mind, actively resisting, it is possible to shield against her temporarily. But not indefinitely, we found.” His expression was rueful, as if annoyed at some inner failing.

“She was amazingly powerful,” he marveled. “I imagine this has only increased in the intervening years. In fact, I know it has, judging by the scene we found when we were sent to retrieve her.” He paused, fixing the shinobi with a piercing gaze. “You understand her mission parameters?” he asked.

Kakashi did not immediately reply. Finally, choosing his words carefully, he answered, “I know she infiltrated the palace of the Takamori monarchy and Prince Mujito's retinue, in order to obtain information about the assassination of her adoptive parents.” He left out Prince Mujito's assassination at the behest of the Sand ninja. The fewer people who knew of that, the better.

“Correct. But do you know _how_ she was able to accomplish this?” the medic-nin pressed. “She was granted entrance to the palace to serve as a concubine for the Prince's harem.”

Kakashi stiffened. He had known, of course, the likely role she had played. Realistically, it was the best way to utilize her power to its fullest extent, without undue suspicion. And shinobi were always free to refuse such missions. She had clearly chosen to accept.

However, he didn't have to like it.

Tsunade had taken care not to throw it in his face. She knew he was not a fool. Gritting his teeth, he responded brusquely, “I suspected as much. Go on.”

Knowing he had misstepped, but not sure how, the doctor eyed the Copy Ninja warily. After a moment, he continued.

“Apparently, Soriya had no difficulty obtaining information from the Prince. But it became clear to her that he knew nothing of her family. Yukio Ryuji was the person she needed. But he was supremely suspicious of everyone, and utterly loyal to the Prince. In other words, a problem.

“Soriya was unable to devise a way to get inside his head. Due to his skill and power, she felt it unwise to attempt to take him down alone. It's part of the reason the mission dragged on for so long. And, for reasons you already know, she wanted him badly. So she waited, biding her time.

“Emiko and Kaito sent word to the Hokage periodically. Emiko posed as a flower vendor, who had occasional access to the palace. Kaito was able to infiltrate Ryuji's army of rogue ninja as a guard. I believe Soriya's original intention was to use Kaito's position to lure Ryuji into a trap, then kill him after using her gift on him. But it all went horribly wrong when Emiko was captured.” Enya blew out a breath, rubbing his jaw tiredly. The sorrow in his blue eyes made him appear much older than his twenty-seven years.

“I was sorry to hear of her death. I liked her. Soriya must have been devastated.”

Thinking back on the kunoichi's memories of that tragic event, Kakashi commented, “Something puzzles me. How was she able to speak with Emiko over a distance? I was under the impression her telepathic power only worked through touch.”

“That was something we discovered quite by accident, as it happens. The blood bond.”

Kakashi's eyebrow quirked in curiosity. “Blood bond?”

“Yes. It was during a routine training exercise. Soriya was in hand-to-hand combat with a member of ANBU black ops. The agent had her pinned and was trying to smother her. To avoid blacking out, she bit him, drawing blood. The damage she inflicted enabled her to break free, knocking him back and away. She got to her feet, and I remember she had this devilish grin on her face...

“The next thing we knew, the agent was unconscious on the ground, though a distance of at least ten meters separated them. Soriya was not able to replicate the trick on anyone else without touching them. The blood she inadvertently ingested was the only mitigating factor. The agent suffered no permanent injury, just a migraine headache. Although we now know Soriya is capable of killing with this power.” He closed his eyes, thinking of Emiko.

“How exactly does it work?” Kakashi asked, intrigued.

The doctor's voice assumed a scholastic tone. “By ingesting a small amount of a person's blood, Soriya is able to form a temporary telepathic link that can stretch for several kilometers. The bond lasts only a day or two, and, when activated, drains chakra at an alarming rate. More rapidly as time and distance increase. And it has some inherent limitations, being a one-way initiation only. That is, only Soriya can initiate contact. The recipient cannot reply to her unless she establishes a connection with chakra, which she must then maintain. It's probably why she didn't realize Emiko had been taken until it was far too late,” he concluded grimly.

“Once her teammate was killed, Soriya chose to move forward with the mission. I understand, as I was present at her debriefing per the Hokage's request, that Ryuji had shown signs of interest in Soriya, although he hadn't yet made any advances. She encouraged him, although she took great care to do so subtly; he remained staunchly loyal to the Prince. She contacted Kaito, informing him of her intentions, warning him to be ready to flee.

“She and Kaito did not have a blood bond, by the way,” Enya looked at the Copy Ninja. “She used cats to communicate with him, on the rare occasions she felt it necessary to do so.”

“I'm surprised,” Kakashi remarked, puzzlement evident in the arch of silver eyebrow. “Summoning ninjutsu require an enormous amount of chakra. How was she able to avoid detection?”

“Ah. You've not witnessed her summoning jutsu, then?” Enya surmised. “She doesn't require the blood contract most ninja have with their summoned creatures. I suspect this might have something to do with her gift, or, more likely, the particular nature of the animals she calls. They've always been rather peculiar. You've heard of Bathsheba and Ra?”

Kakashi's visible eye widened. “The ancient cat demi-gods? Surely you're joking. I'm not aware of any shinobi who could claim to reliably summon and control those two. Not even Tsunade trifles with them. They're notoriously capricious; one can't depend on their cooperation—contract or no.”

The medic-nin smiled. “I told you, she does not bind them with a blood contract, _per se._ She'll tell you—quite smugly, I might add—that Bathsheba and Ra choose their patron. Not the other way around. She claims they like fresh salmon and having their heads rubbed.”

At the Copy Ninja's incredulous look, he swore, “I'm not making this up! Anyway, she says one or both of them just appear when she calls. Mostly because they are curious. Although even Soriya admits they're occasionally unreliable. They have no qualms about refusing a task if they find it uninteresting. She takes care to ask for their help only rarely, and seems to simply enjoy their company. I believe she has a genuine affection for them. And they for her, if truth be told. It's a very odd relationship,” he mused, shaking his head. Kakashi still looked dubious.

“You'll see. They'll show up here eventually. She likes to have them with her when she's injured. We couldn't seem to keep them out of Psych during her recovery. Eventually, we just stopped trying. Their presence often calmed her when nothing else would,” Enya remembered.

“But I'm jumping ahead. Getting back to Soriya's plan to deal with Ryuji... When Prince Mujito died of an aneurysm, she took advantage of the confusion to slip out of the palace.” If Enya thought the Prince's death suspicious, given what he knew of Soriya's gift, he didn't mention it.

_Wise,_ Kakashi thought.

The medic-nin continued, “Soriya suspected Ryuji would find her sudden disappearance suspicious, especially since Emiko's body disappeared as well. Along with Kaito, who had been part of his guard. They fled to Wind Country's eastern border. She intended to lay a trap for him, using herself as bait.”

Enya's expression was grave. “I know Kaito argued vehemently against it. He felt Ryuji was too dangerous, and they should send for help from ANBU black ops. Soriya admitted as much, during the debriefing. They had a fair lead on Ryuji's forces and could have escaped to safety. Though she never said, I suspect they had help from an unknown quarter in slowing the pursuit.”

_Sand ninja._ The masked shinobi's eye narrowed. “Why did Kaito summon the Retrieval Unit?”

Shrugging, Enya replied, “Soriya could only remember that she gave him an ultimatum—leave Yukio Ryuji to her and go for help, or fight her on the spot. Kaito didn't want her to face Ryuji—he must have suspected her plan. But he couldn't convince her to abandon the mission. Soriya was also determined to avenge Emiko; she couldn't let it go. And she still wanted an opportunity to glean any information regarding her past.

“Being practical, Kaito opted to quickly go for back up, hoping it arrived before Soriya could confront Ryuji. He was certain the rogue ninja would kill her, so the message he sent the Hokage was accordingly dire. She dispatched the RU immediately, commanding me to accompany them. My orders were to do what was necessary to preserve Soriya's life, if at all possible. When we arrived on the scene, we were stunned at what we found.”

The medic-nin closed haunted eyes briefly, lost in memory. He shook his head, as if to clear it of unpleasant images.

“The Hokage no doubt told you of the twenty unmarked bodies of Ryuji's men. I was unable to determine the exact cause of death through cursory exam, and there was no time for a formal autopsy. Ryuji himself...” Enya hesitated, unsure how to describe what he had seen. After a moment, he ventured, “You understand, this is now mere conjecture on my part. Only Soriya knows the truth of the actual events, and this she has suppressed deeply in her subconscious mind. What I tell you from this point on is just my best interpretation of the evidence at the scene.”

Kakashi nodded his understanding. His stomach knotted unpleasantly. He knew he would not like what he was about to hear.

Enya's tone was somber. “It looked as though Soriya succeeded in ensnaring Ryuji with her plan,” the medic-nin hesitated, eyes sliding uneasily away from the jonin's hooded gaze. A muscle worked in his jaw, as he steeled himself to look back at the masked shinobi.

“There is no way to soften this, so I'll just say it. Due to injuries she sustained, it appears she was forcibly raped by Ryuji.” Enya's voice was grim.

Face gray, Kakashi stared down at the woman on the bed. His jaw clenched, left hand fisting in the comforter. He felt sick.

_She deliberately set herself up to be used that way. To get the information. For revenge. Gods._

His eye closed as he ground out, “Continue.”

“During the, uh, act, I suspect Ryuji realized his imminent danger and tried to throttle her, judging by the bruising around her throat. We were previously aware of the unusual strength of his mental defenses. Soriya must have encountered great difficulty in penetrating them, rendering her unable to adequately subdue him. She sustained a severe concussion and a broken nose during the struggle, not to mention her larynx was nearly crushed. I'm guessing Kaito returned in the middle of all this,” Enya surmised grimly. “He didn't stop to engage the guards, but went straight for Ryuji himself.”

Blue eyes fixed on Kakashi. “I know what the Hokage fears. I'll tell you what I told her—I don't believe it. And after meeting you, I'm convinced you don't either.

“I think Ryuji stunned Soriya, probably with a blow to the head. So she was unable to prevent him from using the crossbow, which he had probably taken from Emiko when he captured her.

“He shot Kaito in the throat at point blank range. Kaito died within moments, I'm certain. The bolt's poison was fast-acting, but the sheer amount of physical trauma from the projectile itself was catastrophic. Blood loss alone would have killed him.” He glanced at the unconscious woman on the bed.

“But that murderous act was Ryuji's last. Because then, all hell broke loose.” The doctor looked at the masked shinobi. “You know of the Eight Gates of Chakra Limiting, of course.”

Warily, Kakashi nodded. At the moment, he didn't trust himself to speak. How much worse could the story get? He found it difficult to leash his anger, but was frustrated by the lack of a viable target. Sorely, he regretted Ryuji's death. He wanted to rip the man limb from limb with his bare hands! With effort, he pushed the rage aside, focusing on the medic-nin's words.

“Normally, the Gates act as valves, or restrictions placed on the body, preventing undue strain, or even death, from overexerting the chakra network. As a jonin, you are surely aware of forbidden techniques, such as the Lotus taijutsu move, that allows one to force open the Gates. This override of the system grants the user unimaginable power, at the risk of permanent injury. For example, strength can be increased to such a level that the body's muscles literally tear themselves apart under the stress. If the Eighth Gate is breached, this always results in death.

“I believe Soriya, at the shock of Kaito's death, was somehow able to instantly force open the first four Gates: Opening, Rest, Life, and Pain. Fortunately, she stopped there. But the resultant amplification of power literally ripped Ryuji apart. Her chakra poured through his system, causing nerves, internal organs, and bones to rupture violently.

“Basically, she blew him apart from the inside out. It was, as you can imagine, rather messy.” His blue eyes were flat and cold. “Frankly, I thought it a fitting end for that bastard.

“What I can't explain, however, is the deaths of the twenty rogue ninja. I speculate Soriya's vastly augmented power advanced, tearing apart the minds of everyone present in the immediate vicinity. Perhaps she wasn't strong enough to mangle the bodies at this point, or perhaps it was merely Ryuji's physical proximity that led to his gruesome end. We may never know.

“But by the time we got to Soriya, she was completely drained of chakra, choking on her own blood. The head trauma, in particular, worried me. I healed her throat and the concussion. But it quickly became clear all was not well with her mind. Yet I couldn't locate the source of any physical damage.”

“Tsunade told me she tried to refuse the Greater Healing,” Kakashi offered somberly.

“Yes. And had she been at greater strength, she may have been able to fend me off,” he admitted. “But as it was, she was in no condition to mount even a token resistance. And I had my orders. Even if she _had_ fought me, one could argue I had an unfair advantage in having healed her many times before...” he trailed off pensively. At the jonin's quizzical look, he elaborated.

“You must understand that healing is an intimate act in many ways. The laying on of hands often reveals as much about the healer to the patient as the inverse. With Soriya's gift, this effect is unavoidable, and magnified. Knowing this, I was able to use it to my advantage. Of course, it was crucial she sensed that I truly _wanted_ her to survive.” He smiled ruefully.

“She's really a soft touch under that tough facade. She knew I'd be devastated if I were unable to save her. She couldn't bring herself to deliberately inflict that pain on me.” Keen blue eyes pierced the Copy Ninja.

“I tell you this because it may aid you in the future. I get the distinct impression this whole sorry mess isn't over yet. Be willing to exploit any hold you have on her to keep her alive. She tends to be reckless, very stubborn, and extremely careless of her own well-being, as you can plainly see.” He waved a hand at the prone figure on the bed.

“Were you ever able to determine what was wrong with her? I know she spent most of her recovery in Psych.”

“To this day, I'm still not certain of the precise nature of the problem. Believe me, it rankles.” The medic-nin frowned.

“As Soriya's chakra began to return, she started raving, as though she were hallucinating. Only the things she said made no sense. They were disjointed. Disconnected. Almost as if they were not her own ideas at all, but a jumbled collection of thoughts from other people. The favored hypothesis supposed that, in destroying the minds of Ryuji and his men, she accidentally stripped and absorbed their memories. Probably surface thoughts mostly, if I had to guess.” His face reflected awe and amazement.

“It's a miracle she didn't go insane. How her mind coped with the overload of information, I'll never know. Perhaps that's why she's suppressed the entire incident. The brain will often resort to such measures to protect itself.

“However, it does worry me... Eventually, the events are bound to leak out, affecting her in ways we can't predict.” He added, “I understand now why there was such a high incidence of madness and suicide in her clan's history. And she's the first we know of with this level of power.” He sighed.

“I kept her in a coma-like state for most of the trip back. I had no choice. Her power was unstable, lashing out at me and the RU members who took turns carrying her. We all suffered violent migraines and terrible nightmares after having close physical contact with her. I've often wondered if the nightmares were memories taken from Ryuji and his men—bleeding off from her, so to speak. The brain's way of expunging useless data.” Enya grimaced. “It was highly unpleasant, let me tell you.

“Once we arrived home, I assisted Psych in slowly nudging her back to consciousness. At first, she exhibited the symptoms she'd shown in the field: uncontrollable thrashing, screaming, hallucinations, and the like. She had to be physically restrained from attacking the staff. We woke her only for short periods, at first. Then, she began to have brief moments of lucidity, when she seemed to grasp we were trying to help her.

“I was very thankful for this, because up until that time, she would not permit anyone other than me to touch her. The headaches she gave some of the Psych staff were so severe they had to be hospitalized. And I was feeling frazzled, the effects of constant nightmares taking a toll on me.

“During one of her more lucid moments, she summoned Bathsheba and Ra to her side. The psych-nin were intrigued at first, but quickly became disenchanted when it was clear the cats had no intention of leaving, or allowing access to Soriya.” The doctor smiled. “I found it amusing, to tell the truth. And since their presence soothed her, helping extend the amount of time she retained clarity, I argued strongly for their presence. Fortunately, the Hokage agreed with me. And Soriya continued to show steady improvement.” He paused, considering.

“I'd give a lot to understand just what kind of powers those cats possess. I'm fairly certain we have them to thank for her progress. After a couple of months, it was decided she could be released from Psych, but they didn't think it wise to approve her return to active mission duty.” Gravely, Enya looked at Kakashi.

“Considering everything she's been through, I'm not sure she'll ever be fit for normal duty again. Especially not deep cover work. But ultimately, that decision lies with the Hokage, and Soriya herself.”

Kakashi stroked his cloth-covered chin. “At the moment, I'll be happy if we can just keep her out of the hospital,” he remarked dryly. “I appreciate you telling me this. I'll think very carefully on all you've said.

“And now, I have just one more question.” The Copy Ninja scrutinized the doctor intently. “Soriya's help wasn't 'absolutely needful' to deliver Izumi's baby as you claimed, was it?”

For a long moment, the man so challenged did not reply. Rising to his feet, he walked to the balcony doors. Turning slightly to expose his profile, he answered obliquely, “The more ties that bind her, the better. She has to _want_ to survive. And I never said it was absolutely needful for _Izumi's_ sake.

“Soriya needs to realize that her gift is capable of more than just killing. As is she. Besides...we all fight harder when we have something to protect.” He turned an intelligent eye on the Copy Ninja. “Wouldn't you agree?”

_“Touché”_ Kakashi touched fingertips briefly to headband in a salute, as the medic-nin leapt to the railing.

Speaking over his shoulder, Enya advised, “I'd get some rest if I were you. You'll need it to cope with her tomorrow. She's a bear when she's tired, dirty, and hungry.” Offering a casual wave, the man jumped off the balcony, landing lightly on the packed earth. Quietly, he moved off into the trees, heading toward town.

Rising to grasp the back of the medic-nin's vacated chair, Kakashi set it beside the bed. He sat, staring down at the sleeping woman. After a moment, he gently took her left hand between his own. Maybe doing so wasn't wise, but he wanted her to know he was here. That he wasn't going anywhere.

_Not this time. Never again._

Settling himself more comfortably, Kakashi listened to her soft, even breathing while he contemplated the information pieced together from various sources. A vague suspicion was brewing in the back of his mind. It made him uneasy. What he needed were answers. He would press Soriya to confide in him once she recovered. A talk with Ibiki Morino might also yield results. That meeting was probably overdue. Gently squeezing the kunoichi's hand, the Copy Ninja prepared to pass the remainder of the night's vigil in silence.


	5. Chapter 5

Soriya returned to consciousness slowly, eyes blinking blearily as objects in the room swam in and out of focus. She felt awful.

“Ugh.”

“Well, well. Awake at last. How are you feeling?” a placid voice asked. The tall shinobi stood in her bathroom, wet washcloth draped across one hand.

She grunted. “I've been better. My head feels really muzzy.”

“Here.” The Copy Ninja approached, handing her the warm cloth. “You bit your lip yesterday. Use this.”

Taking the washcloth, she struggled to sit up. And succeeded, although it took more effort than she would have liked. Her whole body ached, as if she'd run one hundred kilometers up a mountain. Swallowing a groan, she asked, “What time is it?”

“It's a little after eight. You were out all night. Enya said you should take it easy for a few days.”

“Ha!” she snorted. “He should know better. I can't lie around all day. I've got classes to teach. I just need a bath and something to eat, and I'll be good as new.”

Kakashi smiled. She really was too predictable. “Well, judging by the contents of your refrigerator,” he drawled, “I'm guessing you haven't had a chance to visit the market. Somehow, I don't think ramen and bottled water will do much to replenish your energy.”

She shot him a knowing glance. “What happened to the cherry pie?”

The elite jonin's eye crinkled up and he shrugged sheepishly. “Well, you know cherry pie is my favorite. What can I say?

“Look, why don't you take a bath while I get some groceries. I'll stop in and check on Yori and Izumi on the way,” he added, as an enticement. “While I'm out, I'll have Sakura, Naruto, and Sasuke let everyone know classes are canceled today.” He quirked a platinum brow at her, remarking reasonably, “If you get enough rest, you'll probably be up and about tomorrow.”

Wiping her face with the washcloth, the kunoichi considered his offer. It was true she was really in no condition to be moving around. Merely sitting up was proving to be a challenge, requiring considerable effort on her part. She decided to give in gracefully for once.

“Perhaps just one day would be okay. Some food would be great, too.” Her nose wrinkled. “And a bath is definitely in order.” She looked sharply at him. “No, you may not help. I can manage that on my own.”

“I don't like to leave you in such a weakened state,” Kakashi hesitated. “Is there anyone who can stay with you while I'm gone?”

Soriya smiled, eyes twinkling with mischief. “As a matter of fact, there is. And I think it's past time you met.”

Closing her eyes, the kunoichi brought palms together in a series of intricate hand seals. Kakashi felt a mere whisper of chakra rise from her as she spoke two names.

“Bathsheba. Ra.” Her voice, though pitched softly, echoed eerily in the small space.

Several moments passed. A slight breeze whisked into the room from the balcony, rustling the sheers wrapped around the bed's canopy. Tendrils of unbound hair swirled around Soriya's face. She smiled tiredly.

Suddenly, two dark, feline forms appeared on the bed, pressing lithe bodies against her arms and chest. One of the cats lifted its front paws to her shoulders, rubbing its face along her jawline, whiskers tickling her ear. The sound of low, persistent purring filled the room. The other cat butted its wedged head against her hand, insistently demanding attention.

“Soriya.” The first feline rolled the “r” in her name. “What have you been doing to yourself? Every time we see you lately, you're in bed.” Large, pointed ears flicked back in disapproval.

“Sorry, Bathsheba. I just overdid it a bit yesterday. No real harm done.”

Her hand stroked down the cat's back, tempting its spine to arch in contentment. She scratched the other cat firmly under the chin, causing its golden eyes to close in pleasure. A rumbling purr shook its entire body, and it flopped down, draping across the woman's thighs. Slitted eyes peered curiously at the silver-haired shinobi leaning against the bathroom door frame.

“Who's the weirdo in the mask?” Ra wanted to know.

“Ra! Be polite,” Soriya chided. “This is Kakashi Hatake. He's been taking care of me.”

“Not very well, it seems.” The feline's ears went back as the Copy Ninja casually moved toward the bed. Ra hissed, revealing long white fangs and a pink tongue. Bathsheba wasted no time in swatting him right between the ears, abruptly cutting off the growl starting low in his throat.

“Ra! You stop that this instant! This man is her mate. Can't you smell him all over her?”

Soriya cringed, flushing crimson. She dared a quick glance at Kakashi, who appeared...amused?

_I knew I should've taken a bath first._

Clearing her throat awkwardly, the redhead tried to redirect the conversation. “Well, uh, it's not quite that simple, but—”

“Actually, I have no problem with that,” Kakashi cut in smoothly. “It's a fairly apt description of my intentions, after all.”

Shooting him an annoyed glance, she snapped, “You be quiet. We'll talk about this later.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Kakashi's lidded eye looked her over lazily. “Suit yourself. I'm a patient man. I can wait.”

Ra chose that moment to jump off the bed, crossing the floor to stand in front of the Copy Ninja, who straightened from his slouch. Brown and black ticked fur rose on the cat's back as he twined his body in and around the shinobi's ankles. His tail puffed as he snarled angrily, “He smells like dog! Soriya, what are you thinking?”

“Hey!” Kakashi protested, offended.

Soriya chuckled, hugging Bathsheba to her chest. “Sorry, Ra. Kakashi summons a pack of ninja hounds from time to time, I'm afraid. Please forgive his poor taste, for my sake.” She grinned at the elite jonin. “Ra is not overly fond of dogs, as you can see.”

“I'll keep it in mind,” he replied sardonically, eyeing the cat now sitting at his feet.

Bathsheba pushed off from Soriya's lap, landing lightly on the floor. Sinuously making her way over to Ra, she rubbed her jaw along his shoulder, nipping him lightly.

“Ra, behave yourself. Any man who can make Soriya smile has my approval. Don't be so possessive.” Her tail flicked his nose as she brushed past, making him sneeze. She stopped in front of the Copy Ninja, green eyes staring up at him sedately.

“You may pick me up,” she directed, tone regal as any queen's. Kakashi lifted his eyebrow, but reached down to the feline's slender form. She settled her reddish-brown body in the crook of his arm, turning her triangular head toward him. She observed him keenly with slitted green eyes.

“Hmm. You seem powerful enough. What's under the headband? Smells like Sharingan to me, but you are not of the Uchiha clan. You were not born with this power,” she pronounced, question sounding like a statement.

“No.” The Copy Ninja admitted, glancing toward Soriya for help.

She shrugged, enjoying her position as spectator to this bizarre introduction. Things were going remarkably well. From experience, she knew Bathsheba and Ra were not subtle about expressing their dislike. Much to the extreme vexation of the psych-nin assigned to her case. She smiled.

Bathsheba's whiskers brushed against the man's lower mask. “You do have the reek of the pack about you, but I can overlook that,” she offered magnanimously. “Just be good to her, and we'll get along fine.” Deliberately unsheathing a paw's razor-sharp claws, Bathsheba inspected them carefully. “I'm sure you take my meaning. You seem fairly intelligent, for a human.”

“Thanks...I think,” Kakashi replied dryly.

Bathsheba hopped down to the floor, nudging Ra with a paw. His fur had settled back to its usual sleek appearance. He flicked an ear at her, but conceded grudgingly, “I suppose I can give you the benefit of the doubt...for Soriya's sake. See that you don't abuse my goodwill.” With that, he turned his back on the shinobi, tail waving languorously in the air as he padded back to the bed. Springing up beside the kunoichi, he flopped down, promptly closing his eyes for a nap.

The nonplussed look in Kakashi's dark eye was the funniest thing Soriya had seen in a long while. She lost the battle to hold in the giggles, laughing uproariously at the bemused jonin's expression.

“As you can see, I'll be quite well-defended. While you're at the market, will you please pick up some fresh salmon? It's their favorite.” She smiled winsomely, still chuckling.

Pleased by the redhead's joyful visage, Kakashi decided compliance was his best option. Already, in the few moments since the felines had arrived, her color was better and she seemed to have more energy. He strolled toward the balcony doors, tossing a casual wave over his shoulder. Preparing to vault the railing, he advised, “I'll be back in an hour or so.” Then, sarcastically, “Try to stay out of trouble, if you can.”

Soriya stuck her tongue out at his receding form.

“So...he does know you pretty well,” Bathsheba purred, cocking her head at the kunoichi. “He really cares for you, you know. I read it easily.”

“Oh, hush. You two are terrible. Especially you, Ra. Quit posturing. Kakashi's made of sterner stuff than that. It won't work.” Her tone was affectionate exasperation.

Ra did not deign to reply. Instead, he rolled into a ball, tucking his pink nose between long back legs. Soriya sighed, stroking the soft fur. Pushing back the comforter, she swung slightly shaky legs to the floor.

“Now, about that bath...”

XXX

_Tap, tap._

Soriya grimaced, turning her face away from the persistent touch on her cheek.

“Go 'way,” she muttered groggily.

Whiskers tickled her ear and she lazily swatted a hand near the offender without making contact. Only when a raspy tongue licked the hair at her temple did she open sleepy eyes in annoyance. Green, slitted orbs stared into hers from three inches away, making her eyes cross.

“Ugh.” She pushed lightly at the feline head. “You know I hate the whole hair-licking thing, Bathsheba. What gives?”

The female sat back on her haunches. If she had been human, the kunoichi would swear she was grinning.

“You fell asleep in the tub about a half-hour ago. Not only is the water cold, but Ra says Kakashi is approaching. I thought you might like to be clothed when he gets here.” She paused, than added teasingly, “Then again, I'm hardly an expert when it comes to human relationships. Perhaps I am mistaken?” She blinked innocent green eyes at the woman, whose mouth had dropped open.

“Shit! You could have warned me sooner,” Soriya accused, scrambling up from the tepid bathwater. She had just enough time to grab for the blue towel beside the tub, wrapping it around herself, when she felt the shinobi's return. Before he could knock on the bathroom door, Soriya yanked it open.

“Hey. I fell asleep in the tub. Sorry,” she confessed sheepishly. “Can you give me a few minutes? I won't be long.”

Silently, Kakashi took in her current state of undress. She thought she heard him suck in a breath, but couldn't be sure because of the mask. Waving a hand in front of his unmoving form, she prompted, “Kakashi? Hello? Anybody home?”

The silver-haired ninja coughed slightly.

“Uh, sure. No need to hurry. I'll be in the kitchen.”

Abruptly turning on his heel, the Copy Ninja continued down the hallway. Ra and Bathsheba trailed him, tails erect, tips twitching with excitement.

Staring after him in bemusement, Soriya shrugged. Closing the door, she moved to the bathroom mirror. Grabbing a comb, she began working it through slightly tangled tresses. She'd draped her hair over a towel behind the tub to remove excess moisture, as usual. However, falling asleep had allowed it to dry too much, making the task of combing it out more difficult. By the time she finished, her arms were shaking with effort. Feeling too fatigued to bother with putting it up, she popped a hair band onto the lengthy mane a foot from the end, holding most of the strands together and out of her face. Suddenly, a loud growl echoed off the tiled walls of the bathroom.

“All right, already! I hear you,” she told her rumbling stomach. Snatching the short black robe from the hook on the back of the door, she let the towel fall to the floor. Wrapping the silk around herself, she tied it securely with the belt.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, reminding her vividly of the interlude on the balcony the previous evening. She inhaled deeply, reaching for calm.

_Last night was just a one-time thing. Regardless of what he says... He doesn't even know--_

Her mind shied away from completing the thought. Forcing down sudden anxiety, the kunoichi checked the mirror to ensure she wore a detached expression. Squaring slender shoulders, she grasped the doorknob.

XXX

While Soriya worked on her hair, Kakashi unpacked the food, laying supplies out on the counter. He'd taken the liberty of opening a couple of boxes labeled “kitchen” during the night, in order to have some dishes, pans, and utensils ready for use. Ra and Bathsheba took turns twining around and between his ankles, excited “meows” and “merows” escaping their throats occasionally.

“All right. I get the hint. Can you please get out from under my feet now?” the shinobi sighed in exasperation. The felines backed off slightly, sitting like twin bookends, tails twitching. He could feel their eyes boring into him as he laid out two plates with fresh salmon.

“Here you go. _Bon appetit.”_

Without so much as a thank you in acknowledgment, both cats descended on the fish with a vengeance. Loud purring could be heard as they made short work of the meal.

“Charming.” Kakashi's tone was droll.

Turning back to the counter, he set about preparing the rice, vegetables, and beef he had purchased. Hands carried out the task by rote; his mind was otherwise preoccupied by images of a towel-wrapped Soriya, fresh from the tub. Damp hair, normally straight and sleek, fell in soft waves around her face.

She was so appealing, it took his breath away.

Stupidly, he could only stare at her, dark eye focusing on the water droplet tracing a path down her jugular, over a delicate collarbone, into the shadowed valley of her cleavage. When she'd called his name, his gaze had snapped back up to her face guiltily. A sudden tightness in his throat had made him cough.

_Control, Kakashi, control._

He supposed he ought to feed her first, although all he could think about was trailing his tongue along the same path the water had taken.

_Patience is a virtue._

He had beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen, before he threw aside good sense and acted on those licentious thoughts. The flustered shinobi sincerely hoped she put on some clothes. Maybe a snowsuit would help him maintain composure. At least long enough to get some food into her. He doubted she even realized what she was doing to him. Well, he would rectify that soon enough, with great pleasure.

Feeling a presence at his back, he prompted without turning around, “Have a seat, food's almost ready. By the way, Sumiko and Izumi are doing fine. Yori says they're sleeping, mostly. Iori seems slightly disgruntled about having a little sister though,” Kakashi chuckled. “I think he wanted a little brother. Or a puppy.”

That surprised a laugh from her. “I'm sure he'll appreciate her more when she's older and has cute teenage girlfriends over to the house. But I'm glad Izumi and the baby are doing well.” Soriya sniffed the air appreciatively. “I'm starving. Something smells delicious.” Sitting at the small, round table, she asked curiously, “Do you cook often?”

“Soriya. I'm thirty-one years old and live alone. Of course, I cook. Quite well, in fact.” He quirked an eyebrow in her direction, stomach tightening as he noticed what she wore.

_She's trying to kill me._

Stifling a groan, he served up a generous portion of beef with vegetables on a plate, setting it in front of her.

“Dig in. There's more if you're still hungry.” He looked her over critically. “I recommend seconds.” In a lower tone of voice, he added, “You'll need the energy.” He arched a brow innocently at the sharp glance she threw him. Fidgeting slightly in her chair, she let the comment pass.

Bathsheba and Ra, finished with their meal, rubbed against Soriya's ankles. Ra jumped from the floor to perch on the kunoichi's shoulders, purring in her ear. Bumping her jaw with his head, he tendered a telepathic warning.

_That man is thinking dirty thoughts. Want me to bite him for you?_

In the process of bringing food to her lips, she jerked, eyebrows rising toward her hairline.

“I do not! Ra!”

Kakashi turned from loading the dishwasher, curiosity in his gaze. “Soriya?”

She cleared her throat, looking slightly guilty. “Uh, never mind. It's nothing.” Shooting a glare at the golden-eyed feline face inches from her own, she snapped, “Ra and Bathsheba were just leaving, I'm afraid.” She reached down to stroke Bathsheba's soft fur, dislodging the ten pound weight from her shoulders in the process. Ra promptly sat, licking a paw nonchalantly.

More calmly, Soriya added, “Thank you both for coming. Really, I feel much better now. I'll call you again soon, I promise.”

“Just try to stay out of bed,” admonished Bathsheba. _Unless it's with your mate, of course. He has some interesting ideas. I had no idea humans were so flexible._

An image appeared in the kunoichi's mind, causing heat to blossom in her cheeks.

“Bathsheba! Not you, too!” Soriya exclaimed, betrayed.

Kakashi found the dark red color washing over the kunoichi's face and throat fascinating. He was intensely curious as to what the feline had said to elicit such a response. He had not been aware she could speak mind to mind with the cats. Briefly, he wondered if the ability was granted by her gift, or was a skill endemic to the felines. Just as he opened his mouth to ask, a brisk breeze blew through the kitchen, vanishing as suddenly as it had come. As the rush of cool air settled once more, he asked dryly, “Are they gone?”

Soriya closed her eyes in mild relief. “Yes. For the moment. I always forget what a handful the two of them can be. But they mean well. Mostly.” She laughed shortly. “Sometimes, I swear, they do and say things just to see what will happen.”

“I had heard their temperaments were, um, rather mercurial in nature,” Kakashi offered. “It must be useful, speaking telepathically with them. Your doing, or theirs?”

“Fishing for information for Enya?” she smirked at him. “He was fascinated by them, always asking questions they refused to answer.” She relented with a shrug. “Oh, that skill is entirely their own. They're extremely powerful telepaths, among other things. Perhaps that's why they were drawn to me, initially. It is a sign of very great favor to be spoken to in such a way, apparently—or so I've been told.” She rolled her eyes. “Believe me, there are times when I would rather forego the honor. Like just now,” the kunoichi muttered darkly under her breath.

“What did they say to you?”

“Oh. Er—just something embarrassing. Nothing important.” She focused on her plate, adding, “Just so you know...they don't require contact to read minds. And they pick up surface thoughts really, really well.” Soriya took a bite of food, chewing and swallowing. Gracelessly, she switched topics. “This is very good. Thanks for going to the trouble.”

“You're welcome.” Kakashi's dark eye gleamed with humor. He decided to let the abrupt change of subject pass unchallenged. He took the hint regarding her warning, guessing the sorts of thoughts the felines had gleaned from him. However, since he'd already expressed his intentions openly, he wasn't particularly bothered by it. Watching idly as she ate, the Copy Ninja admired the precise, elegant motions she made with the chopsticks.

“More?” he asked, reaching for her empty plate.

“Aren't you having any? You were up all night playing nursemaid.”

He snorted. “That was easy. You were unconscious the whole time. Not much for me to do. And I had the cherry pie, remember? So I'm not hungry,” he paused, silver eyebrow dipping rakishly, “for food.”

Soriya swallowed audibly, mouth suddenly dry. Pushing back from the table, she stared at him. Ignoring her traitorous body that thrilled at his words, she tried to caution him.

“Kakashi...about what happened last night... I'm not sure it was wise.” She held up a hand, forestalling his reply. “It's not fair to you. There is so much about me you don't know. Things I've done, am capable of.” She looked away from him, gray eyes shuttered. “I'm not the person you think I am.”

Studying her tense profile, the Copy Ninja responded quietly, “Soriya. I've spoken with Enya. And the Hokage. At length.”

She closed her eyes. Flatly, with no emotion, she said, “You know.”

“Yes.”

The kunoichi sat for a moment, unmoving. He couldn't read the expression on her pale face. Before he could speak again, she stood abruptly, refusing to meet his gaze. Numbly, she instructed, “You should go now. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine.”

He could see that her breathing was a little too fast.

“Soriya, wait. Talk to me.”

Kakashi reached for her, but she sidestepped, stalking quickly down the hall. He followed immediately, determined to make her see reason. She was not to blame for what had happened. And he was on her side.

Just as his hand reached out to clasp her shoulder, she whirled on him. Tears of rage and pain shimmered in the stormy gray eyes. Crimson hair, pulled free of its containment, whipped violently around her face. Visible chakra swirled madly, encompassing the furious kunoichi in an aura of white.

“What do you mean, 'yes?!' Enya _told_ you! Told you what I planned. What I did. How it cost Kaito his life!” she cried. _“How can you still be here?!”_

His heart ached to see her so broken and hurting, pain laid bare. For the first time, he could clearly see the rage and hatred she radiated were directed mostly at herself. He stepped closer, but did not attempt to touch her.

“Soriya. It's not your fault that Emiko died. Or Kaito. They were shinobi. They knew the risks.”

_“Shut up!”_ she screamed, the force of her chakra driving him back a step. “Just shut up! You don't understand...” she sobbed. “Kaito didn't want me to do it! But I wouldn't listen. I was so sure I could take Ryuji down if only I could get close to him.” Her voice dropped, until she seemed to be speaking almost to herself. Words long bottled up poured forth in a steady stream, breaking now and again, as if rushing over jagged rapids.

“I knew he wanted me. When I...when Mujito...died...and I fled, I knew he'd come. And I wanted him to. I swore I'd kill him. For Emiko. Kaito argued against it all the way to the border, but _I_ was team leader; I blew him off. Finally, I told him that if he wanted to stop me, he'd have to kill me.” She laughed, the harsh sound at odds with her anguished expression. “What kind of person does that, Kakashi?”

He raised a hand to caress her tear-streaked face, but she flinched away, plunging back into her confession. The angry glow of chakra subsided as her rage-driven energy faded. Bloodred tresses ceased their chaotic thrashing and the kunoichi's voice quieted, as though resigning itself to the story's inevitable conclusion.

“I drove him off. I wanted him gone before Ryuji showed up. I knew what would happen if he stayed. I couldn't let him try to stop it. Stop me.” Tears leaked from her eyes.

_“Why?_ Why did he come back alone?” she lamented. “He was supposed to wait for help!”

Something about the way she said the words bothered him, and suddenly, he knew what it was. His eye widened in shock, then narrowed, a rare anger surging through him. Before he could think better of it, the Copy Ninja grabbed her upper arms, shoving her forcefully into the wall.

“You little fool! You were committing suicide, weren't you? Using Ryuji as the weapon.”

Her lack of response told him the truth.

“It wasn't about the mission, or Emiko, or the Itasukis at all, was it?” He shook her with each accusation, fingers digging painfully into her arms. “That's not why you sent Kaito away. You just didn't want him to stop you from killing yourself. _Answer me!”_ he demanded, furious.

She said nothing for a long moment, staring at him with wide, gray eyes. Then, slowly, she nodded, shoulders slumping. Wearily, she confessed, “I believed I could kill Ryuji, truly. For Emiko. But I thought his men would finish me.” More softly, “And I welcomed it.” A pause, then quietly, “You're hurting me.”

Instantly, Kakashi relaxed his grip, though he didn't let go. He struggled to force down a gut-wrenching anger. In truth, he was infuriated with her, the Hokage, Enya, Morino, and anyone else who should have seen this coming, but hadn't.

Most of all, he was furious with himself.

Since the age of ten, she'd been slowly killing herself. Kakashi had seen it—the shadows rising in her as a genin. And he'd walked away. Yori's words came back to him forcefully.

_I still had her to look after me, but she had no one, really._

Cutting words, for she had had him—had needed him—and he had abandoned her. To this.

Well, he'd be damned if he'd abandon her now.

Bringing his forehead to rest against hers, the Copy Ninja groped for the words to convey that he understood. That he saw her weakness, and forgave it, as she had forgiven his. That he couldn't bear it if she died. That he loved her, and always had.

“Soriya.”

Words were inadequate. Reaching up to his mask, he yanked it down, breathing harshly through parted lips.

The kunoichi's eyes, luminous with tears, searched his face. “I don't understand why you are still here. Knowing what you know...” her voice hitched. “How can you not despise me?”

“I could _never_ despise you,” Kakashi vowed.

Pulling off his headband, he let it fall to the floor. So close, she was instantly riveted by his mismatched gaze. Slowly, the Sharingan began to spin.

He had to make her see that it would be all right now. He was here, with her. They would figure things out together.

“Suki,” he breathed, capturing her lips in a fervent kiss. Pouring all of his thoughts and feelings into the contact, he overwhelmed the telepath with emotion. The Sharingan held her motionless. He had to make her understand that she was valued and cherished—for herself, not just for her power.

Tensing under the tender onslaught, Soriya hesitated, but the Copy Ninja's raw emotion slowly won her surrender. Weakening suddenly, she would have fallen, if not for his hold on her. Nudging a thigh between the kunoichi's unsteady legs, Kakashi caressed her face, stroking over the silver tear tracks. Her eyes closed and she sighed, relaxing into him. Scattering kisses across the petal-soft cheeks, he tasted salt on his lips. The scent of honeysuckle washed over him, transforming the last of his anger to desire.

Staring down at the face held protectively in his hands, Kakashi's pulse quickened. Their relationship was about to change irrevocably. Maybe already had. Did she know? How much he wanted her? There was no way he could just let her walk away now.

Shifting a hand to the curve of her hip, he pulled her closer, pressing upward with his thigh. The movement drew a low moan from her and she arched into him, fingers curling around his biceps. He kissed her again, slower, more deeply, trapping her between his body and the wall. Almost of its own accord, the kunoichi's left leg rose to his hip, holding him against her. He cupped a breast, kneading the sensitive flesh through the thin robe. He had not removed his fingerless gloves, and the extra friction, combined with the slide of silk against skin accelerated her ragged breathing.

“Kakashi...”

Her tone was part plea, part demand.

Earlier misgivings thrown aside, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him fiercely. Knowing how he felt—had always felt—she could not deny she had wanted this, wanted _him_ for so long. Could not remember why she'd even tried.

Restless fingers found their way to the zipper on his green vest, tugging it down. Now that she'd chosen to succumb, she could not get closer quickly enough. Sliding eager hands under the vest, she pushed the garment over his shoulders, enabling him to shrug it off.

Responding to her sudden urgency, Kakashi settled gloved hands on the curve of her bottom, lifting upwards. Pressing himself against her more insistently, he groaned in the back of his throat as she wrapped both legs tightly around him. Turning, he moved toward the bed.

Slowly, he slid her down his body until she perched on the edge of the high mattress. Gazing into beautiful gray eyes, he inhaled sharply as she slipped mischievous hands under the hem of his shirt. Impatiently, she tugged upwards on the dark fabric. Leaning forward, Kakashi helped her pull it over his head. Dropping it carelessly to the floor, she rose to her knees on the edge of the bed, wrapping an arm around his neck to draw him closer. He suppressed a shiver as curious fingers wandered over the hard, smooth planes of his chest and stomach.

In the privacy of his mind, he'd often fantasized about this moment. How she'd feel. Taste. The sounds she'd make. Never, even in his most vivid imaginings, had he pictured the passionate gleam in her eyes, stormy gray shading to quicksilver.

Gazing up at him through long lashes, her lips moved languorously along his collarbone, down his chest. A warm, wet tongue traced the fine line of scar tissue crossing his sternum—a remnant of an old battle, one among many. She paused to tease and lick at a flat nipple, grazing him lightly with her teeth.

Groaning, he tipped her face up, tangling his hands in the silky red waves. Drawing her full lower lip into his mouth, Kakashi sucked it gently before nipping and kissing along her jawline to her ear. Tracing his tongue around the delicate shell, he tugged the lobe lightly between his teeth.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured huskily.

Heart pounding, Soriya reached for his hand. She breathed into his ear, “I want to feel your hands on me.”

A surge of desire shot through his groin as she turned his palm toward her, bringing teeth to the Velcro at his gloved wrist. Luminous eyes stared into his own as she pulled the strap open slowly, drawing off the glove. Captured by her gaze, the Copy Ninja brought his other hand to his mouth, jerking the closure open. With a sharp flick of his wrist, the glove flew off, landing on the floor.

Running bare hands over black silk from ribs to hips, Kakashi dropped his face to her neck. Inhaling the honeysuckle fragrance of her skin, he kissed down the delicate line of her throat, prompting the kunoichi's head to fall back. Pausing at the juncture of neck and collarbone, his tongue lingered over the love mark he had given her the previous evening. He relished the feel and taste of her, so soft.

Still, he held back on granting her request, caressing her breasts through the thin robe. He wanted to draw out the moment, make it last. Hear every sigh and moan she could make, as she begged him for more.

The kunoichi had other ideas.

Impatiently, she arched upward toward his questing mouth, hands skimming over the sculpted chest and flat stomach. Fingers dropped to the waistband of his pants. Expertly undoing the fastenings, she slipped a hand inside, firmly stroking him.

Kakashi dragged his mouth away from her collarbone, panting harshly. Head hanging, eyes closed, he enjoyed the attention momentarily, a seductive rumble building in his throat. Then, taking hold of her wrists, he held them out on either side of her, breathing raggedly, “Unless you want this over quickly, you'd best stop that.”

Looking up at him with sultry eyes, she pouted, “It's your own fault for being such a tease.” Then lower, “Touch me, Kakashi. Give me what I want.”

In persuasion, she leaned against him, placing open-mouthed kisses along the strong column of his throat. Testing his throbbing pulse with her lips, she bit down lightly, then laved the offended area with her tongue.

Kakashi's eyes closed in pleasure. Loosing her wrists, he freed them to twine around his neck. Shifting his attention to the closure of her robe, he slowly untied the belt and pulled it loose, allowing the material to fall open. Sliding weapon-callused hands inside, he stroked along satiny skin, raising goosebumps over the sensitized flesh. She shivered under his touch, breathing becoming more erratic. He rewarded her passionate response by kneading and caressing her breasts until she moaned, head falling back.

“Is this what you want?” Kakashi asked, voice low against her ear. When her only response was a whimper, his right hand smoothed down over her belly, fingers brushing damp red curls.

“Or this?” he prompted, sliding a finger over her engorged flesh, slick with dew. Stroking back and forth, he waited for a reply. High, breathy sounds were his only answer, as her fingers clutched at his shoulders.

“No?” he teased, withholding his stimulating touch a moment.

“Yes!” the kunoichi moaned, frustrated desire permeating her voice. Gray eyes flashed as she tried to form coherent words. “Y-you—!”

Deciding to end his delightful torment of her—before he got hurt—Kakashi's hands skimmed upwards, sliding the robe off her shoulders. Lowering her arms, Soriya let the material fall in a silken puddle.

Quickly divesting himself of the rest of his clothing, Kakashi claimed her mouth once more. Hands moved to her hips, guiding her backwards into the center of the bed. Pulling her roughly to him as he knelt on the mattress, he kneaded the plush curve of her bottom, honeysuckle-scented hair brushing his knuckles.

“Maybe there's something else you want?” he purred, warm breath tickling her ear.

Slipping her arms around his waist, Soriya glanced up at him, lidded expression artful. Shifting her weight suddenly, she grinned as the elite jonin was pulled off balance. He let himself fall, landing beside her against the pillows. Rolling quickly, he imprisoned her beneath him.

“You talk too much,” she concluded blithely, wrapping a shapely leg around him. “Put up or shut up.”

“Mmm...” Nudging her other knee aside, Kakashi settled himself firmly against her, left hand fisting in glossy tresses to hold her still. He rubbed his face against the soft flesh below her collarbones, suckling the peak of each breast thoroughly until the rosy tips stood at attention. Satisfied, he rocked his pelvis, drawing moans from both of their throats as he slid over her slick flesh.

Wantonly, she pressed upwards with her core, trying to replicate the sensation. He gasped, a sudden urgency gripping him. Leaning back on his arms, Kakashi shifted into position. Staring down into her wide, passion-filled eyes, he lifted a hand to her cheek.

“Suki...”

Her lips parted in a sigh as he slowly pressed forward. Though more than ready, she was achingly tight, and he paused to catch his breath once fully sheathed within her. Inhaling heavily, he reached for control.

Dropping down onto his elbows, he cupped her face in both hands, taking a moment to kiss her deeply. He did not want to rush this. Not when they'd both waited so long. Carefully, he began to move with deep, unhurried thrusts.

“Ah...yes...” her voice, high and breathy, sounded in his ear. Slender fingers skimmed up and down his back, blunt nails occasionally grazing the pale skin.

Continuing the slow, measured strokes, Kakashi's tongue mimicked his actions as he planted open-mouthed kisses along her throat. Mismatched eyes keenly observed his lover's response to his slightest caress. Every sigh of breath, every arch of her spine...

He wanted to learn all the ways she liked to be touched. And practice them, again and again.

Bracing his weight on his left elbow, Kakashi fondled her breast, tugging on the nipple firmly. The low cry it drew from her lips incited him to push into her more forcefully.

“Kakashi!” she pleaded, writhing under him.

Gritting his teeth, the Copy Ninja pulled her hips forward, raising up on his left arm. Sliding a hand between them, he increased his pace, thumb stroking her clit simultaneously. The kunoichi's breath was coming in high, rapid gasps, pelvis undulating beneath him in time with his thrusts. He watched her fingers curl in the bedsheets. He could feel her body clamping down on him, signaling her imminent release. Driving into her roughly, he attempted to push her over the edge into bliss.

Abruptly, Soriya stiffened, small tremors building in her center.

_“Oh gods...”_ she moaned.

He had just enough time to call out her name before the violent quake ripped through her, wringing a loud cry from her lips. Powerful shock waves grabbed hold of him, squeezing; the intense sensation dragged him down with her, until he lay panting, face pressed against her neck. Mind empty of all thought, he could barely muster the strength to move, other than to wrap both arms around the bewitching woman beneath him.

Chest heaving, Soriya slowly unfurled clenched fists. Lifting trembling arms, she ran idle fingers through her lover's hair. Her heartbeat thudded loudly as she wrapped her legs around him, stroking the backs of his calves and thighs with her feet. After a few minutes, her breathing and pulse steadied.

Wondering at his silence, the telepath dared a peek at the surface thoughts of the man in her arms. She was surprised, and a little concerned, to sense nothing at all. Shifting slightly, she prodded him.

“Kakashi.”

“Hmm?” his voice, contentedly lazy, vibrated pleasantly against her skin.

“You still awake?” she asked.

“Mm-hmm. Though quite frankly, I'm surprised you are,” he drawled. Nuzzling her neck, he added, “You've used up quite a bit of energy this morning. Keep it up, and I might be forced to confine you to bed for another day.”

Chuckling, he kissed her throat.

“Actually, forget what I just said. You should exert yourself until you can't stand up. Allow me to help.” Lifting his head to look at her, he grinned roguishly.

She snorted, mouth opening to reply, but was startled by the huge yawn that emerged. Suddenly, her limbs felt leaden. Belatedly, she realized the flecks in his Sharingan eye were slowly rotating.

“No fair,” Soriya protested groggily. “You cheat.”

She felt laughter rumble in his chest as her lids drooped, long lashes closing over the tired gray eyes. Peaceful, even breathing ghosted over the shinobi's face as the kunoichi drifted into a deep sleep.

Kissing her softly, Kakashi withdrew, settling himself beside the exhausted redhead. Gathering up her thick mane of hair, he loosely twirled it together in a long ponytail, draping it above her head. Sighing contentedly, Soriya shifted, pressing her rear into Kakashi's hip. Obligingly, he rolled, spooning her into his chest and tangling their legs together. Stifling a yawn, he kissed the top of her shoulder.

He was fairly fatigued himself, having been up all night. Tucking his nose behind her ear, he inhaled the sweet scent of honeysuckle. His eyes drifted closed, hand falling naturally to cup the curve of a breast. Feeling the slow, steady throb of her heartbeat, Kakashi allowed the soothing rhythm to lull him to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

“Just a bit further,” Soriya muttered under her breath.

She could feel Ryuji's implacable mental signature drawing nearer. Already, his men were moving to surround her position, like vultures circling a wounded animal. Glancing briefly at the ground in front of her, she allowed a sharp grin to twist her lips. Planting sandaled feet before the small earthen alcove erosion had carved into the hill, she waited for their approach. Her ponytail, a crimson pennant, fluttered in the breeze. She inhaled the damp smell of water.

The Ganji River was not too far from her current location.

The kunoichi considered her strategy once more; much depended on Yukio Ryuji's actions. If the Chief of Security sent his men at her, she could back into the alcove—force them to take her on, one or two at a time. She highly doubted the precaution would be necessary, however.

Ryuji would not be able to resist challenging her directly. He was not a man who liked to be cheated out of anything, especially revenge. Her disappearance right after the death of his Prince would make him suspicious that the death was more than an unfortunate aneurysm. Even if the medical exam was inconclusive—as she was certain it would be—he'd still suspect foul play.

She was counting on that.

She waited, keeping her chakra tightly suppressed. He must not have cause to be wary of her true strength. Drawing a kunai from the sheath strapped to her bare right thigh, she crouched. Shadows moved in the clearing.

“So.”

The baritone voice sounded off to Soriya's right. Out of the trees, a tall, powerfully built man in brown leathers approached. He wore a dark metal helm, the nose guard shaped to resemble a dragon's head. Narrow wings, strong enough to deflect a glancing sword blow, flanked the helm's temples. Heavy gauntlets gripped the sword belt at the man's waist, although he did not deign to draw the katana carried there. A dark cloak fell over his right shoulder, partially concealing the brown leathers. He halted twenty meters from the kunoichi's position, penetrating black eyes examining the terrain.

“Where is the other ninja?” he demanded brusquely.

Silence was her only reply.

The man's brows dipped alarmingly, lips flattening to a thin line. Lust flickered briefly in the eyes that raked over her body, clad in a short black skirt and sleeveless top.

Suppressing a shiver of revulsion, Soriya gripped the hilt of her kunai in white-knuckled fingers. She was not his equal in taijutsu. She knew this. Yet, she could not allow herself to be taken too easily, lest Ryuji suspect a trap. To have any chance of success, she needed to lure him into close combat. He must not be allowed to take her down from a distance. Unblinking, she watched as he slowly advanced.

“Come now. You are vastly outnumbered here. You may as well give up and tell me who sent you. I assure you, in the end, I will find out anyway.”

His mouth turned up in a cruel smile. Without warning, he launched three shuriken at her torso in rapid succession. With no change of expression, Soriya deflected the first two missiles with the blade of her kunai, and sidestepped the third, snagging it out of the air as it zipped past her shoulder. In a motion too fast for the eye to follow, she sent the deadly projectile spinning back to its owner. Ryuji did not bother to dodge, merely lifted a forearm as the shuriken clanged harmlessly off the metal bracer he wore.

“Impressive.” He appraised her with interest as she resumed her slight crouch, awaiting his next move. “I don't sense any chakra from you. Curious... Who are you?”

She remained silent, not particularly wanting to converse with him. His death was all she desired. For Emiko. For herself.

As if he could guess the direction her thoughts traveled, he mused, “I wonder... Were you in league with that other kunoichi? The so-called flower vendor? She wasn't nearly as clever as you. I became suspicious of her frequent visits to the palace, so I had three of my men accost her on her way home. Instead of meekly submitting to their advances, she attempted to fend them off. A feat no mere flower vendor would have dared.” White teeth flashed in a feral grin. “In the end, she begged me for death, you know.”

“You lie!” Soriya hissed, voice low. Gritting her teeth, she forced down righteous anger. To give in to rage now could be fatal. She had to keep her wits about her in order to manipulate him. “Tell me. Do you plan to send your men at me as well, then take the credit for finishing me off?” she sneered, baiting him.

Ryuji's eyes flashed and he took a step forward.

“You filthy whore. You murdered the Prince! What poison did you use?” When she did not answer, he shrugged carelessly. “No matter. Soon enough, I'll have all the answers I desire. And then I will kill you myself. Slowly. My men will not interfere.” He spoke dismissively, waving them back to form a perimeter.

“But first, I am going to take what you have been taunting me with these last few months. Again and again. And I _will_ discover who sent you, before I'm done.” The menace of his expression was darkly eager as he pressed forward. “But don't worry. Eventually, I promise to put a permanent end to your suffering.”

Heart pounding, Soriya readied herself for his rush. He would close with her quickly, in order to use his superior size and strength. She needed to slow him down at the outset; cripple him so that he could not break away easily once he engaged her. Locking her eyes on his torso, she concentrated on anticipating his movements.

Suddenly, the glint of metal whizzed directly at her face. Recognizing it for the distraction it was, the kunoichi ducked, legs bracing to leap. Instantly, Ryuji bounded forward. As his lead foot came down just in front of her position, the ground beneath him crumbled unexpectedly, revealing the shallow trench she had prepared. Stumbling, he righted himself almost immediately, but the damage was done.

The moment his foot caught, Soriya jumped, aiming a crushing kick toward her attacker's knee. Her sandaled foot connected sharply, shattering his right kneecap and tearing ligaments. Before she could spring back out of range, the rogue ninja howled, thrusting upward with the hilt of his sheathed katana. The blow caught her under the chin, and she flew backwards, landing inelegantly on her rump. Struggling to a sitting position, the kunoichi wiggled her jaw experimentally. Fortunately, it was not dislocated.

“You bitch! You'll pay dearly for that,” Ryuji spat, fury and pain twisting his features. Staggering, he advanced on her, dragging the injured leg awkwardly. Gauntleted fingers moved clumsily through the seals of a jutsu.

Soriya's eyes widened in alarm. Hurriedly, she pushed up from the ground.

The earthen floor of the alcove shifted, engulfing the kunoichi's right wrist in a vice-like grip. Hardening instantly, the dirt felt as though it had been transformed to concrete, sucked dry of all moisture. Fear gripped her as she pulled ineffectually at the earthen shackle. Her heart thundered in her ears.

_Don't panic! This is what you wanted. Be strong enough to bear it._

The urge to cast a water jutsu to free herself was strong. Almost overwhelmingly so. Ruthlessly, she suppressed the instinctive response.

Not yet. He must not fear her yet.

Freeing the kunai from her entrapped hand, Soriya tried to pry her arm free, chipping the blade of the weapon in the process.

Ryuji chuckled darkly. “It's useless to struggle.”

Reaching in casually, he grasped her left wrist, squeezing until bones ground together. Eyes watering, Soriya gasped, letting the kunai fall from nerveless fingers. She bit back the whimper rising in her throat, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

The man who had tortured Emiko Hagane stared down at his captive. Though the woman was clearly trapped—he could see the fear in her eyes—she was far from cowed. Instead, she seemed almost...defiant.

It irritated him.

Coldly, he backhanded her across the face, snapping her head sideways. Blood trickled from a split lip, as she collapsed against the ground. Ryuji summoned chakra once more, pressing her left wrist against the earth, molding a second restraint. Grasping her chin in a bruising grip, he forced her to look up at him.

“Tell me who sent you,” he ordered calmly.

She laughed, the harsh sound bubbling out from between bloodied lips. “Why? So you can rape and kill me anyway? Go to hell.” She spat a stream of bloody saliva at him.

Wiping red spittle from his face, Ryuji released the kunoichi's chin long enough to hit her with a closed fist, slamming her head back into the ground. Stars exploded in Soriya's vision as she felt her nose break. Gasping, she tried to get her eyes to focus past the pain blossoming between them. She barely heard the rogue ninja's next words.

“If you think that's the worst I can do to you, you are sadly mistaken. Your comrade found out the hard way just how imaginative I can be,” Ryuji commented, threat mingled with desire in his tone.

Soriya's skin crawled, mind racing.

_I can't let him drag this out, or knock me unconscious._

Aloud she taunted, “Is beating me to a pulp the only way you can get it up? Figures. Tough guy like you intimidated by a woman unless she's tied up and helpless. You disgust me,” she sneered.

Ryuji laughed, the menacing sound at odds with the look of anticipation on his face. “I know what you're trying to do,” he warned, sending a sliver of fear through the kunoichi. “You're trying to anger me, so that I kill you quickly. It won't work. I've been waiting for this for far too long.”

Crouching over her, he forced her knees apart with his legs, leaning heavily on his left side. A gauntleted hand tore at her clothing, before fumbling with his trousers. Mentally, Soriya fought to disconnect her mind, both to avoid cringing from the repulsive touch, and conversely to conceal a triumphant gleam from showing in her eyes.

_Come on, you bastard! My face will be the last thing you ever see._

He entered her roughly, driving the kunoichi brutally into the ground. He smiled at the pained cry she could not quite contain.

Biting her lip to prevent any further cries, Soriya struggled to divorce her mind from the gross insult being done her body. The thought that Emiko had endured this, and far worse, gave her strength. It also helped that Soriya was no stranger to pain. During training, she had suffered injuries far more severe and incapacitating, although perhaps not quite so intimate in nature. She had survived them and grown stronger. She would overcome this as well.

Ignoring the pain inflicted by teeth and grasping hands, Soriya allowed her chakra to rise, slipping unnoticed into the occupied man's mind. Instead of a porous substance into which she could easily sink, she was balked by a smooth gray wall, her power sliding harmlessly over the slick surface. Gritting her teeth, Soriya expanded the power flow, fully encompassing the strange barrier.

Above her, Ryuji stiffened, aware of the intrusion. He jerked, trying to withdraw, but her legs tightened, holding him in place. With his damaged knee, he could not gain enough leverage to break her hold.

“Get out of my head, bitch!”

Orbs so dilated they appeared black instead of gray met and held his gaze. Chakra surged around Ryuji's mental barrier from all directions simultaneously. A fierce grin flashed across Soriya's bloodied face. With supreme effort, she squeezed the shield with the full force of her power. Ryuji reared in agony as the barrier buckled, then cracked.

“This is for Emiko!” the telepath snarled, power rushing into the breaches. Waves of chakra flooded the rogue ninja's brain, paralyzing him. Ruthlessly, she ripped through thoughts and memories, vindictively seizing upon the most terrible, agonizing recollections of his psyche. One after another, she flung them at him. His mouth opened in a silent scream, eyes wide, as the unrelenting mental assault swamped him.

One group of images in particular, seemed to evoke fear in the Chief of Security. Curious, Soriya took a closer look.

A much younger Yukio Ryuji undergoing questioning by Hidden Leaf Village interrogators. They weren't gentle, yet their attention did not garner the same level of abject terror as the subsequent images.

Darkness. Isolation. A cold cell. The quiet voice speaking to him, worming its way into his thoughts.

_Haruma Anji. Listen to me. I can help you, but you must help me._

Soriya recognized neither the speaker nor the name, but the fear inspired in the man could not be denied. In a bizarre parallel with the current situation, Ryuji tried desperately to retreat from the voice's invasive penetration of his mind, but Soriya's power held him fast.

Methodically rifling through Ryuji's memories of the calm, implacable tones, she inhaled sharply as the face of a man appeared. He was young, mid-to-late twenties perhaps, with shoulder-length dark hair. Steely gray eyes gleamed with intelligence.

Soriya's fists clenched in excitement. She _knew_ this man. Determined to discover more, she plunged further into the rogue ninja's mind.

Taking advantage of her divided attention, Ryuji grunted, focusing all of his considerable will into his left hand. Engrossed in ferreting out memories of the mysterious man, Soriya realized her peril a moment too late, when the ninja's hand closed unexpectedly around her throat.

Choking, the kunoichi fought to regain control of his physical body. To hamper her concentration, Ryuji let his full weight drop, crushing the telepath into the earth. The impact knocked the breath from Soriya's lungs, and he gripped her neck, slamming the back of her skull viciously into the ground. Stars exploded in the kunoichi's vision as darkness hovered, waiting to claim her.

If only she could breathe...

Dimly, she heard Ryuji raging above her.

_“I'll kill you!_ Did you really think I was that weak? _Get...out...of my...head!”_ he screamed, banging her skull repeatedly against the earth with each word.

The black void closed in rapidly. She felt no pain, only a distant sorrow at her failure. And a regretful longing for something she could not seem to remember.

_I'm sorry..._

Somehow it seemed vitally important she apologize. Although, with both breath and life being squeezed from her, Soriya could not clearly recall for whom the apology was intended.

Suddenly, she felt Ryuji tense. Dizzy and disoriented, she barely registered his curse as he released her bruised throat. Gasping, she sucked in a lungful of air, hindered by the man's bulk pressing down on her. A familiar mental signature brushed her mind. Dazed, she struggled to focus swimming vision.

_Kaito?_

Horror-struck, she tried to scream a warning as Ryuji shifted his weight, pulling a small crossbow from under his cloak. He jabbed the haft of the weapon sharply into the telepath's stomach, stealing what little breath she'd managed to recover. Soriya could only watch helplessly as Kaito's determined face appeared at the rogue ninja's back, kunai poised to strike.

Smoothly, Ryuji twisted, aiming and firing the crossbow at point-blank range. The bolt struck the surprised shinobi in the throat, ripping through his jugular and carotid, as if he were a mere paper target and not one made of flesh. Blood fountained outward from the gaping wound. The twang of the weapon's release sounded a moment later, almost as an afterthought. Soriya looked on in open-mouthed horror.

Clutching his ruined throat, Kaito dropped to his knees. Shocked brown eyes met appalled gray ones. For one single, awful, _precious_ moment, Soriya thought he struggled to tell her something. His mouth worked desperately, wet choking sounds issuing from between bloodied lips.

Heart's blood, she knew.

Slowly, the doomed shinobi's face drained to a waxy hue and he keeled over, landing on his stomach in the dirt. Blood seeped into the ground beneath him, expanding in an ever-widening pool. Chalk-white and splashed with crimson, the expression on his face seemed almost apologetic. His sandaled feet scrabbled in the earth—the body's last, feeble attempt to cling to life. He'd always been a fighter...

She could not look away from those sorrowful brown orbs, even as the light within slowly faded, leaving them wide and staring.

_“Nooo! Kaito!”_

Something snapped inside Soriya's mind.

Red rage exploded across her vision, blinding the kunoichi with the force of its fury. Effortlessly, white-hot chakra surged, bursting open the first two Gates of Chakra Limiting. Wrists, still bound by earthen shackles, pulled against their bonds as the fingers of her right hand began to move. Water answered the silent call.

Instantly recognizing his danger, Ryuji swung the emptied crossbow directly at her face. Chakra poured forth, forming a physical barrier, smashing the weapon and the bones of the man's hand. He screamed—pain and fear mingling with furious disbelief. Before he could recover, water seeped upward from below the ground, softening Soriya's restraints. By sheer force of will, her chakra surged again, battering down the Third and Fourth Gates.

Rapidly expanding power engulfed Ryuji, filling the small alcove with light. Jerking her wrists free from the now-soggy bonds, Soriya slapped palms sharply against the rogue ninja's cheeks. Dilated eyes blinked in the blindingly white light as the telepath forced pulsating energy into his body. She wanted him to see her face. Feel her wrath.

If she did nothing else, she would kill this man.

He stared at her in horror, recognizing his death in her eyes. She spoke a single word.

“Die.”

Instantly, the chakra flooding his system exploded outward, bursting blood vessels, rupturing internal organs, shattering bones. The force and fury of her power blew him apart. Small bits of the former Chief of Security rained down, splattering Soriya, the body of her dead teammate, and the now-muddy ground beneath them with gore.

Wheezing through her damaged throat, the kunoichi struggled to rise. Failed. Coughing weakly, she slumped back in the red muck. She reached out a trembling hand to Kaito's lifeless body. The sight of his blood-flecked face and empty eyes renewed her fury.

Telepathic senses turned outward, seeking a target.

The surprise, horror, and fear emanating from Ryuji's guards drew her attention. Hesitating, the kunoichi balanced on the knife's edge between mercy and madness.

Believing she was helpless, one of the men foolishly exhorted his fellows, “Shoot her! She can't kill us all!”

Soriya fell off the edge into madness.

Lifting a hand, power spread from her splayed fingers in a massive shock wave. Rolling out in an expanding arc, the brilliant glow ensnared each man, halting all movement. Instantly, she perceived their thoughts, felt their panic. She was larger than life, encompassing the whole of their identities...and she gloried in it.

At a thought, the wave of power narrowed to tendrils connecting her to each of the twenty men. Holding them in thrall for moments that seemed like hours, Soriya divined each man's motivations and intentions. She was judge, jury, and executioner here.

Coldly, she found them wanting.

Eyes in which the irises were completely swallowed by pupil narrowed. Slowly, the telepath's hand closed into a fist. Those near enough to see her found the strength to scream. Harshly, she yanked the tendrils back, ripping them free of the men, whose cries abruptly ceased. Twenty bodies collapsed, unmoving, in the dirt. Silvery, whiplike ribbons of power retreated, merging into a single massive band of shimmering chakra. Wickedly, the power curved back upon its wielder.

Soriya's eyes widened in alarm.

Bracing for the impact of twenty minds' worth of data, she opened her mouth to scream...

...And woke to hands pinning her wrists to the bed. Still caught in the nightmare, she panicked, bucking to dislodge the unseen assailant. Urgently, a familiar voice called her name, penetrating the fog of disorientation. Vision clearing, Soriya looked up to see Kakashi's concerned face hovering above her own.

“Soriya! You're safe! It's only me. You were caught in a nightmare.” The Copy Ninja looked ill, voice strained, unlike his usually placid self.

She thought she sensed shock and anger from him, but as soon as he was certain she was aware, he released his hold, retreating from her personal space. The shinobi's eyes were haunted as he observed her, his breathing a bit too fast.

Soriya sat up quickly, heart pounding. Wild-eyed, she stared uncomprehendingly at the kunai gripped in white-knuckled fingers. Alarmed, her gaze snapped upwards, raking over her lover.

“Did I—?”

“No!” He shook his head emphatically at the sheer look of horror in her eyes. “I'm not injured.” Carefully, almost hesitantly, he asked, “Are _you_ okay?”

She stared at him. Suddenly, the dream... _memory_...came flooding back, filling her mind.

She remembered everything.

The rape, Kaito, the men, all of it.

Overcome by the memory of a ghostly hand clutching her throat, she gasped, unable to breathe. Dropping the kunai, her hands flew to her neck as she hyperventilated, face awash in terror.

“Soriya.” With effort, the Copy Ninja kept his voice gentle. Quietly edging closer, he stopped just shy of touching her. His breath caressed the skin of her shoulder. “It's all right. You're safe here. It's over.”

Closing slightly dilated eyes, the kunoichi concentrated on his soothing tones, fighting to slow her rapid breathing. In her mind's eye, she saw Kaito's shocked expression once more, only the look in his eyes was accusing, rather than sorrowful.

An acrid taste rose in the back of her throat.

Abruptly, she scrambled out of bed, frantically running for the bathroom as nausea surged. Hurling herself over the commode, she was violently, noisily, sick.

Gasping for breath, tears leaking from beneath her closed lids, she knelt, clutching the bowl for dear life. Under the cloak of blood-red hair, slender arms shook in reaction. She did not stir as soft footsteps padded into the bathroom.

“Here,” Kakashi offered her the black robe she had worn earlier. Hiding behind the curtain of her hair, she took it, shrugging the garment on awkwardly. Listening to him move around the bathroom, she heard water run briefly before the shinobi stopped beside her.

“Use this.” He handed her a washcloth.

She took it cautiously, not wanting to accidentally brush his skin. With the memory of what her power could do at the forefront of her mind, she was unwilling to risk even incidental contact. The emotions she'd sensed from him earlier...

If he loathed her now, she didn't think she could bear it.

_Just breathe. He's right—it's over and done. There's no going back._

Needing some time to compose herself, she requested hoarsely, “I need a minute, okay?”

“Sure,” he replied neutrally, retreating to the bedroom.

She sat unmoving, willing the cold, emotionless state that had served her well in the past to descend. It was more difficult to achieve than she remembered.

She pondered the Copy Ninja's initial response, not sure what to make of it. The shock and anger had been there, she was certain.

_Did he see? Does he know?_

Soriya guessed her subconscious mind, relaxing in his presence, had unlocked the suppressed memory. But had it projected the vision onto him while they slept?

Such things had happened before with Enya, during her recovery, although this particular event had always remained blocked. She was well aware the medic-nin had already given Kakashi most of the details, but seeing it first hand was very different than merely hearing about it. She'd spoken with Enya and read the written reports from the RU herself, but actually experiencing the events evoked a vastly more visceral reaction.

If she were honest, Soriya was less afraid of injuring the Copy Ninja with her gift than she was of discovering he hid disgust and loathing behind a calm facade, out of some misguided sense of duty. That, she couldn't bear.

_Coward. You know he's not like that._

But the worry she might be wrong kept her frozen in place on the bathroom floor.

Finally, the sour taste in her mouth motivated the kunoichi to rise. Staggering to the sink, she turned on the tap, splashing cold water over her face. Brushing her teeth and rinsing with mouthwash made her feel marginally better. Staring at the pallid reflection in the mirror, Soriya was shocked to see dark circles under her eyes. The gray orbs looked far older than her twenty-four years.

_I look like hell. Great._

She turned away from the mirror, uncaring. Her appearance reflected her emotional state perfectly. Shoring up tattered courage, the telepath left the bathroom. Her eyes immediately sought out the Copy Ninja.

He'd replaced his headband, covering the Sharingan, but had not dressed. Sitting in her bed, sheet gathered at his waist, the elite jonin seemed relaxed and composed. Soriya knew he could not possibly be as calm as he appeared, despite the lack of strong emotion emanating from him. Her eyes wandered over broad shoulders, across his sculpted chest and abs, then lower, tracing the fine line of silver hairs that disappeared under the sheet just below his navel. Raising her eyes back up to his dark one, the silence stretched between them. Finally, Kakashi chose to break it.

“That was some nightmare.” His tone was carefully modulated, revealing nothing of what he felt.

Soriya turned away, taking a few steps toward the balcony. She stood, head bowed, hugging herself.

“You saw.”

The Copy Ninja hesitated, but could see no benefit to be had in a lie. She had been hiding too many things, bearing too many burdens alone. He thought she was very much like him in that.

But he was older, and tired of being alone.

Contemplating the contrast between the ebony robe and mass of slightly tangled red hair cascading down her back, he replied truthfully, “Yes.”

“And now?” she asked, voice and posture betraying her anxiety. She did not look at him.

“Come here,” he beckoned, in a tone he would use to calm a shying animal.

Inhaling shakily, she gathered the strength to face him. The gentle arch of silver brow emphasized the sympathy in his dark eye. It almost undid her, making her breath hitch and eyes sting. Swallowing past the sudden lump in her throat, she stared at him mutely.

“Come here,” he asked again, holding out a hand to her.

She wanted to go to him. Oh, how she wanted to!

Luminous gray eyes flicked from the offered hand back to his face. But her feet felt rooted to the floor. Opening her mouth to speak, no sound emerged. Coughing slightly, she tried again, voice rough and shaky.

“I'm afraid.”

Kakashi sighed, not lowering his hand. “I told you before...there is nothing you've done that will make me turn away from you. I meant it.” He gazed into the kunoichi's shadowed eyes. She had to be willing to take the risk, or all was lost. Once more, he urged, “Come here, to me. Suki.”

The sound of her name on his lips seemed to break the spell holding her in place. Tentatively, she took a step toward him. Then another. A third. Trembling fingertips reached out to take the proffered hand. Hesitated. Then, biting her lip, Soriya cast aside strong mental barriers, and slid her shaking hand into Kakashi's warm grip.

Instantly, his thoughts and feelings swamped her. Surprised by the roiling emotions concealed by the Copy Ninja's outwardly calm demeanor, she flinched, almost letting go. Fingers tightened around her, refusing to relinquish the tenuous contact. Inorexibly, he pulled her closer.

She went slowly, feet dragging, but not quite resisting, absorbed in sifting through the myriad emotions of this complex man. She'd known him for more than half her life, but suddenly, Soriya felt as though she'd never truly known him at all.

Quietly, he cautioned, “Make sure you see _all_ of what is there. Not just what you think you ought to see.”

Digesting the cryptic words, connected only by their palms, the telepath opened herself fully to his pain. It was, after all, the dominant emotion she sensed from him. Pain for what she had endured. Anguish that he could do nothing to prevent it. Guilt that he had abandoned her years ago, leading, in his mind, to this tragedy. Sorrow for the loss, her loss, of Kaito and Emiko. Grief for the guilt he knew she would carry for the rest of her life.

Mingled with these were flashes of old sorrows. The loss of Rin and Obito, for which he felt personally responsible. His father's mission failure and subsequent suicide. More recently, the struggle to reclaim Sasuke from the result of the Uchiha's revenge over his misunderstood elder brother, Itachi—an event that had almost led to the young shinobi's destruction. Closely entwined was the palpable foreboding that Soriya was headed down a similar path.

Kakashi wrestled with feelings of fear and helplessness, worrying that ultimately, he could do nothing to turn the kunoichi from her present course. He was bitterly angry at himself for not becoming involved earlier, and for leaving in the first place. He was angry with Soriya for the brutal methods she continually chose to punish herself for the loss of her parents, the Itasukis, and now, her teammates. He raged, wishing he could have killed Ryuji himself for what had been done to her and Emiko.

But he also harbored a deep resentment that Soriya would willingly, knowingly seek her own death. He thought it entirely selfish of her. How _dare_ she leave him that way! To cope with the knowledge of her death, and his failure to prevent it... Just as his father had done.

Soriya gasped, surprised by this revelation, and his personalization of her actions. She had not truly understood the pain her death would cause him, although she'd assumed he would grieve for her. He'd always been so strong and aloof, although she knew the masked shinobi cared. She hadn't realized the comfort he took merely in knowing she was alive and well, if not physically present in his life.

He'd struggled for years to control protective feelings that were secretly selfish in nature, inextricably linked as they were to his suppressed desire and longing for her. Kakashi desperately wanted to keep her safe, but realistically, he knew it was impossible. She was shinobi; it was a hazardous life. And even had she not been, he could not shield her from the world, the past, or her own personal demons.

Recently, he had come to the realization that he could only offer her his trust, the shelter of his arms, and an unconditional love and acceptance. He hoped and prayed, but was by no means certain, that it would be enough.

Overcome, the kunoichi sank down onto the bed. She stared at the man she loved.

_I had no idea how much you suffered._

Kakashi reached out, pulling her into his embrace. Resting her cheek against the smooth skin overlaying hard muscle, she listened to the slow, steady throb of his heart. The tension gradually drained out of her and she relaxed against him. His chest rumbled under her ear as he spoke.

“Suki.”

She looked up at him, eyes moist. “Why do you do that? Call me by that name?” she asked, tears threatening to clog her throat, choking off her voice.

“Because your name means 'beloved,'” he replied softly. “And here, with me, you are. Always.”

A single tear spilled down her face as she absorbed his words and the truth behind them. He released her hand, only to trace a finger lightly down the moisture on her cheek. She'd never been blessed with the ability to express herself well with spoken words. It required too much patience. She vastly preferred the written word—it allowed one time to think; or action, perhaps because it didn't.

Here, she chose the latter, slowly reaching up to press butterfly kisses to the lid of the Copy Ninja's dark eye, then the headband covering its mate. Her nose rubbed against him, inhaling the intoxicating, slightly spicy scent that was heady and male, and undeniably Kakashi. Moving to his lips, she sighed his name as a benediction, then kissed him deeply. Pulling back, she gazed at him, cupping his face between her palms.

“Are you sure you want this?” she asked, searching his expression for any sign of doubt. “I can't promise things will ever be easy with me,” she warned.

He smirked. “I'm a big, tough jonin. I think _I_ can handle you.” Then more seriously, “So long as you promise never to willingly leave me.” Hands on her arms shook her slightly for emphasis.

She stared at him with wide, solemn eyes. Then, slowly, she leaned into him, answering his sole demand with a kiss. Molding her lips to his own, she let her eyes fall closed, concentrating on the feel and taste of him. Questing fingers roved down the column of his throat, along broad shoulders, tracing the hollows above the collarbones. He was all lean, hard muscle, flexing under her hands, and she loved it.

Panting, she broke away from his mouth, trailing kisses along the underside of his jaw. His pulse leapt under her lips in excitement. Lightly, she scored his jugular with her teeth, making him grunt. Sucking the skin into her mouth to ease the hurt, she drew a groan from his throat instead. The passionate sound made things low in her belly contract. Suddenly, she yearned to feel his skin pressed against her own.

As if reading her mind, Kakashi's hands fell to untying the sash at her waist. Shrugging graceful shoulders, Soriya let the material fall to the floor. His strong hands wandered teasingly over porcelain skin, making her heart race. Abruptly, he pulled her closer, fingers tightening around her hips.

“So soft,” Kakashi murmured, placing open-mouthed kisses down the kunoichi's slender neck to the valley between her breasts.

Pushing the sheet roughly aside, Soriya straddled him as he sat upright, rubbing the tips of her breasts against his chest. Arms encircled her, one hand winding itself in crimson, as the other pressed against the small of her back, coaxing her spine to arch. The movement thrust her breasts toward Kakashi's eager mouth, and she moaned in delight as lips and tongue suckled each taut peak.

Wanting to reciprocate, the kunoichi stroked across the Copy Ninja's chest and stomach, feeling the muscles tighten under her fingers. His breathing quickened and her hand drifted lower, encircling him gently. He inhaled deeply, letting his face rest against the elegant line of her throat as she stroked him. His eye closed and he made a sound deep in his chest she swore was almost a purr.

Caressing him more firmly, she was mildly startled when he raised his head, bringing his lips to hers in a demanding kiss. Strong hands smoothed down over the swell of her hips, to the curve of her bottom. Kneading the pliant flesh for a moment, his hands skimmed lower, fingertips trailing along inner thighs down to the backs of her knees.

Anticipating him, Soriya widened her stance, breath coming faster between kisses. Warmth pooled between her legs.

When his right hand moved upward, she sighed, eyes closing in pleasure. The hand stroking him paused momentarily as he deftly parted tender folds, teasing her with a feather-light touch. Compulsively, her hips began to writhe in time with the motion of his fingers. She wrapped an arm around his neck for balance; she was having difficulty holding herself steady as a delicious tension coiled in her lower belly.

_“Ah...!_ _K-Kakashi,”_ she gasped into his ear.

“Hmm?” The Copy Ninja rubbed his face slowly against her chest, nuzzling her with nose and lips.

“If you keep doing that...” her breath hitched, “I'm seriously going to...” another gasp, “lose it.”

“Mmm. And that's...a problem...because?” he drawled, sucking the skin along her pulse point into his mouth between words. To provoke her further, he slowly and deliberately slipped a finger into her welcoming heat, wringing a soft cry from her lips. Unable to stop herself, Soriya pressed down against his hand. She wanted to feel him inside of her.

Releasing him suddenly, she flattened both palms against his chest, pushing firmly. He lay back without resistance, mouth curving in a wicked smile, as his thumb kept up the slow, circular motions over her tenderest flesh.

“Because...” Her mind drew a blank as he stroked her, the coiling sensation winding itself a little tighter.

“Yes?” Kakashi's eyelid drooped lazily as he gazed up at the blatantly wanton expression on her beautiful face.

_He really is far too smug._

Lowering her lips to his ear, Soriya murmured, “Because...then you'd miss out on this.”

Lightly nipping his earlobe with her teeth, she reached back, pulling his teasing fingers away. Holding his wrist to the bed, she kissed him hard on the mouth, urgency apparent in the force of the contact. Rubbing her moist center over his length, she lifted slightly before sinking down onto him.

He released a strangled groan, pushing upward into her velvet warmth. Red tresses cascaded over pale shoulders as Soriya leaned over him, rocking slowly. Silken strands brushed his chest and he inhaled the sweet scent of honeysuckle. Tangling a hand in the crimson fall, Kakashi pulled her closer, breathing huskily into her ear, “I see your point.”

She chuckled, a low, seductive sound that resonated throughout her body. “Somehow, I knew you would.” She paused to nibble on his lower lip before pushing herself back upright. Releasing his wrist, her fingers traced lightly over old battle scars on the planes of his chest, lingering briefly to tease flat nipples.

_So many old hurts._

She wanted to run her tongue along each one, but then his hands resumed caressing her breasts, tugging on the pink nipples, and thoughts fled her mind. Arching into his touch, Soriya increased the pace, pressing down on him. The increased friction forced high, breathy sounds from her throat.

Strong hands dropped to her hips, grasping them firmly. Thrusting upward more deeply, Kakashi strove to heighten the intense sensation. Gasps turned to moans as the coiling pleasure inside the kunoichi wound itself ever more tightly. Her body took control, motions becoming more frenzied as she tightened around him.

“S-Suki,” Kakashi groaned raggedly, warning her he was nearing his limit. The sound of her name on his lips abruptly released the coiled spring in her womb, triggering waves of cascading ecstasy throughout her body. With a loud cry, she pulsed around him, back arching in bliss. Kakashi thrust into spasming heat once...twice...a third time, then grunted sharply as passion overcame him.

Body throbbing with pleasure, Soriya leaned forward, collapsing onto her lover's chest. Contentedly, she listened, eyes closed, to his strong heartbeat, glorying in the feel of his fingers running through her hair. Idly, he stroked her skin with the soft, silky strands. The quasi-ticklish sensation felt good, and she savored it, stretching languorously. She felt a delicious soreness; Soriya knew she'd likely sport some lovely bruises on her hips from his fingers, but found the thought oddly pleasing. Marks of belonging, she supposed.

_Next time, I'll have to give him something to remember me by._

Lulled by the even sound of his breathing, Soriya drifted into a half doze, as the shadows of early evening cast a gloom over the bedroom.

Some time later, she woke, wrapped in his arms. Her cheek stuck lightly to his warm skin, and she moved her face seeking a cooler spot.

“Awake?” Kakashi's voice rumbled under her ear.

“Mm. Barely.” She sighed.

Kakashi rubbed his chin along the top of her head. “What are you thinking?”

Nuzzling her face against his chest, Soriya planted a kiss just above his heart. “I'm wishing we could just stay like this forever.” She sighed again. “But, unfortunately, the real world always finds a way to intrude.”

He hugged her to him, saying nothing. He wanted to give her the opportunity to confide in him of her own accord. She did not disappoint him.

“Kakashi...” she began, voice serious. “There's something I have to tell you. Something I've figured out regarding the traitor. I've suspected for awhile, but now, with the return of my memory, I'm sure of it.” She paused, ordering her thoughts.

He waited patiently for her to find the words. After sharing her memory of Yukio Ryuji's death, he had a feeling he knew what she was going to say.

Drawing a deep breath, she exhaled slowly through parted lips. It was harder than she anticipated, speaking the words. Gaining strength from the comforting squeeze of strong arms, the telepath admitted in a rush, “I think my uncle, Akira Kanzin, might be alive.” Expecting some sort of shocked response, Soriya lifted her head in surprise when none was forthcoming.

Kakashi replied, “The psych-nin? The one in Ryuji's, or should I say, Anji's memory?”

She nodded, confused.

“But how did you—?” She considered a moment, then guessed, “Tsunade told you about the research I was doing.”

“Yes.”

“Huh.” Pensively, she admitted, “You know, I don't even know what prompted me to look up those old records. The name 'Haruma Anji' just came to me after one of my many nightmares. I couldn't rid myself of the feeling that it was important, so I did some digging. That's how I found the connection between he and...my uncle.”

She hesitated. Granting the man such a familiar title seemed wrong, if he had truly committed the sins she feared.

“I never knew Akira,” she explained slowly. “He died before I was born. But my father grieved for him, I know. Every year, we lit a candle and burned incense in front of his picture on his birthday, and on the anniversary of his death.

“Oddly enough, I can't really remember my mother's feelings about him. She never performed the ceremony with Father, although I can't think why. But she never objected to it either, as far as I know. When I was older, Father let me help light the candle and incense.” She frowned, trying to recall. “I guess I just wasn't old enough to understand. But now, I wonder. It does seem strange.”

Soriya was quiet a moment, resting her chin on the hand pressed against his chest.

Kakashi admitted, “I only saw the face of the man in your memory of Ryuji's thoughts. I didn't get anything else. What makes you so sure he's alive? Not that I doubt you, understand. But we have to be sure, before we take this to the Hokage.”

She sighed. “I can't be certain, of course. But if Ryuji survived the plunge over the Ganji, why not Akira? I've always had a knack for water ninjutsu. Perhaps he did as well. Although I confess, I've never tried flinging myself over an almost two hundred meter waterfall,” she remarked dryly.

“But it makes sense in other ways, as well. If Akira is the traitor, he would have intimate knowledge of the Kanzin clan's history and powers. He was a gifted empath in his own right. Who knows what other powers he may have possessed? Ryuji certainly seemed to fear him, from what I gathered.”

The Copy Ninja turned her explanation over in his mind.

“I don't like it. We're missing something. Why would Akira fake his own death, hide for years, then send rogue ninja after you? It doesn't make sense.” He frowned. “The Hokage told me Ryuji directed the ninja that murdered the Itasukis. She has reason to believe he was also the hand behind your parents' disappearance. If that's true, it would have to be at Akira's behest. But why?”

“I don't know!” she exclaimed, frustrated. “I don't know enough about him to understand his motives. Maybe he plans to make use of me in some nefarious plot. Maybe he's just crazy.” She laughed shortly. “It does run in the family, you know.” She sighed in exasperation. “Who knows what his reasons are? We can ask him once we find him. The sooner, the better.”

Kakashi kissed her forehead. “I'm glad to hear you say 'we.' You know I'll do everything I can to help you. You don't have to do this alone.”

“Thanks,” she smiled, kissing him softly. “Surprisingly, just knowing that does make me feel better. I'm really glad you decided to drop back into my life.”

“So am I,” Kakashi affirmed. “I only wish I had never left at all.”

“You can't change the past; I know that all too well,” she said soberly. “But we can do better in the future. Both of us.”

They lay quietly for a time, simply enjoying the comfort of each others' arms. Eventually, the Copy Ninja broke the contented silence.

“So. What do you think our next move should be?”

“Mmm,” Soriya mumbled, half asleep. “I think we should find out if I'm right about Akira surviving the trip over the falls.”

“How will we do that?” Kakashi wondered, curious but apprehensive. He had a sneaking suspicion he wouldn't like the answer.

Yawning, the kunoichi replied drowsily before drifting off to sleep, “By seeing if I can survive it myself.”

He was right, of course.


	7. Chapter 7

“Okay. You have the list of ingredients for commonly used poisons and their antidotes,” Soriya informed the crowded classroom. She had requested Kakashi ask his chunin to have everyone attend the earlier session that day. There were tasks requiring her attention that she didn't feel comfortable putting off any longer.

“Over the next two weeks, in addition to your other assignments, I want you to memorize this information. We will not be meeting here in the classroom during this time.” Soriya paused as faces broke into wide grins. She let them enjoy it for a moment. Then she burst the bubble.

“However, you must each go to the hospital to see Dr. Reika Sonata, our resident poison expert. She'll be expecting you at one of these listed times each week. Everyone must schedule two visits.” The kunoichi indicated a sign up sheet on her desk. Since there are twenty-two of you, I've broken the class into five groups, four with four people, and one group of six. I'll leave it to you to choose the time slots that best suit your schedules. However,” her tone was a warning, “be sure to attend both sessions.

“It is vital you master this material. Therefore, as added motivation, I will be administering a practical exam. Believe me when I tell you it is in your best interests to know this information cold,” she avowed, waiting for the question.

As usual, Sakura's hand was first in the air. “Soriya-sensei, just how will we be tested?” she queried, suspicion evident in her tone.

“I'm glad you asked, Sakura,” Soriya nodded approvingly. “I'm going to treat each of you, in small groups, to lunch. Where I will poison some, or all of you.” Her lips widened in a feral smile as gasps sounded throughout the room.

“Nothing too fast-acting, of course. I want you to detect the poison used, by smell or taste, and request one of the antidotes I'll have available. I urge you to know this material backwards and forwards so you know what to ask for. If you're wrong, there is the very real possibility of death, just as there would be during a mission.”

Several exclamations of alarm erupted from the shocked chunin. Soriya scanned the rounded eyes in the faces staring back at her. Using a placating tone, she attempted to calm them without being too reassuring.

_A healthy dose of fear is a good thing if it keeps them alive._

“Don't be overly alarmed,” she soothed. “There will be a medic-nin standing by during testing, just in case. But, I hope you will all heed my advice, as I would prefer not to have to rely on this precaution. Complacency gets shinobi killed.

“Take advantage of Dr. Sonata's knowledge and expertise. She'll have samples of each poison and its antidote, so familiarize yourselves with them. She'll also impart the usual modes of transmission for each substance, plus signs and symptoms that present in an affected target. Know them. As shinobi, you will most assuredly use this knowledge someday. Either to take, or save a life.” She added darkly, “Quite possibly, even your own.”

The silence in the classroom was deafening. Until Shikamaru, grimacing, muttered under his breath, “Huh. Getting poisoned. Sounds like a drag.”

Nervously, the rest of the class laughed. Soriya grinned at the ponytailed chunin.

“You'll find out soon enough. I'll post the testing schedule on the classroom door in two weeks' time. Be sure to check it out. Until then, study hard. And good luck! Class dismissed.” She waved jauntily as the chunin rose, filing out of the room.

Don't forget to sign up for Dr. Sonata,” she called out a reminder. “Sakura, can you please post this sheet on the door for me?” she asked.

The pink-haired kunoichi glanced up from waiting for her friend, Ino, who was gathering her things together.

“Uh, sure, Soriya-sensei. I could drop it by your house tomorrow if you like,” the green-eyed chunin offered.

“There's no need for that. I probably won't be there anyway.”

“Are you taking a trip?” Sakura asked, curious.

“You could say that,” Soriya agreed enigmatically.

“Where to?”

The jonin shrugged a shoulder, replying casually, “Nowhere special. Just a short trip over Tiger Falls.” _Literally._

“See you in a couple of weeks, Sakura.”

Gathering her papers under one arm, Soriya expertly cast a translocation ninjutsu, leaving the younger kunoichi slightly perplexed as she slowly faded from sight.

XXX

The clang of metal on metal rang down the empty corridor as the redheaded kunoichi approached the enclosure at the far end of the hall. Heat billowed through the doorway, emanating from the glowing forge lining the open back wall of the building. Clearly in use, it spat crackling embers into the well-ventilated space.

It had been over two years since Soriya had last set foot inside this place.

The ringing stopped abruptly, and she spied the gnarled old weaponsmith leaning over his apprentice's anvil. Scrutinizing the young man's work with a keen eye, he rested a palm on the man's burly shoulder, nodding gruffly. He gestured toward the nearby tub of cooling water.

Carefully, the ponytailed apprentice maneuvered his newly forged knife blade into the water with a pair of large iron tongs. As steam hissed and popped, the weaponsmith turned. He caught sight of Soriya standing casually in the doorway. Raising a hand to his pointed, graying beard, he studied her with piercing black eyes. She withstood his cool gaze, arms crossed, ceding nothing. Finally, the wizened man's lips pursed in what those who knew him well would recognize as a smirk. He grunted shortly.

“So. You've come at last. Took you long enough to find the courage.”

The kunoichi blinked, eyes narrowing slightly. Straightening from her relaxed stance, she ignored the implied insult. Aruka Yamota had never been one to mince words. Surprisingly, it was one of the things she liked best about him. Uncrossing folded arms, she tugged lightly at the short, black mini-skirt she wore.

“Do you still have it, Aruka-sensei?”

He snorted derisively, motioning her to follow him back down the hallway from which she'd come. Several doors lined both sides of the corridor, but the stout, old weaponsmith bypassed them all. Finally, he stopped at the last door on his left. Drawing out a key, he unlocked the heavy steel portal, resting his palm firmly above the handle a moment. Soriya counted the space of three heartbeats before the man nodded to himself, turned the handle and pushed open the door.

_A chakra-keyed security system. Fancy._

He flipped on the overhead light.

“Come,” he directed without looking back, momentarily leaving Soriya standing alone in the hallway.

Slowly, she stepped through the doorway, eyes darting around the room with interest. Weapons of all shapes and sizes lined the walls, their sharpened edges gleaming in the light. Katana, kunai, spears, shuriken, even a large zanbatou, typically for use against a mounted foe, were displayed here. Each one beautiful and deadly, Soriya knew. Yet not what she sought.

Unerringly, the old smith moved toward a row of boxes stacked against the far wall. Deceptive in his strength, the elderly man easily hefted the weight of the uppermost boxes in one arm, freeing the box he wanted from underneath. Cradling it against his chest as though it were a babe, he replaced the others, then moved to the waist-high stone slab placed squarely in the center of the room. Setting his burden down gently, Yamota turned the container so that it opened facing the kunoichi.

“I'm glad you've returned for it,” he offered gruffly, thumbing the catch and raising the lid. “It'd be a shame for such a beautiful weapon to wile away the time unappreciated in some dusty old box.”

Soriya allowed the ghost of a smile to grace her lips, looking down at the object nestled in its velvet lining. “I doubt any dust would ever dare to settle here, Aruka-sensei.” She paused, then added quietly, “I could not come, before. Only recently, have I been able to see beyond her death. And his.” The kunoichi bowed her head a moment, as the old man's creased face softened.

“I would have liked to hear Hagane-san's opinion on my efforts. I enjoyed the crafting of it, truth be told. Wouldn't let the apprentices touch it, though they begged.” He laughed shortly.

“Emiko would have been more than pleased, I'm certain,” Soriya assured him. Her hands hovered over the contents of the case. “May I?”

“Of course. You paid for it, after all.”

Sadly, Soriya replied, “Indeed, I have.”

Gingerly, the kunoichi lifted the weapon out of its container. The dark matte finish of the arcing metal bow seemed to drink the light, casting no reflection. The polished mahogany stock fit perfectly in Soriya's hand. Decorative scrollwork lined the grip below the trigger, lending an elegance to the weapon's deadly beauty. The crossbow's prod, or bow, measured a mere width of eight inches, while the overall length of the weapon from tip to butt was slightly under ten inches. Easily concealed, should she so desire. It was an assassin's weapon: powerful, silent, and unfailingly lethal in the right hands.

Her hands, now.

The weaponsmith carefully took the miniature crossbow from Soriya's admiring fingers. He demonstrated the lever used to draw the prod back to its maximum tension. The one-handed mechanism slid noiselessly into place, readying the crossbow with a barely audible “click.”

“The draw of a crossbow this size is short, and generally not very powerful, as compared to a larger weapon with a longer draw,” Yamota explained. “However, I've added the lever mechanism to allow for a tighter draw than could be achieved by merely pulling the prod back by hand. It requires some small effort on your part, but the force and distance the weapon gains is vastly increased. The range is still limited, however, if accuracy is required.”

Soriya nodded. This last was typical.

“What is the maximum range?”

He snorted. “Far more than you could possibly rely on for accuracy. Roughly 120 meters.” At her look of surprise, he shrugged, expression slightly smug. “It _is_ a crossbow, after all. And a particularly fine one, at that. But, I'll caution you once more. You're not likely to hit anything at that distance, unless your target is the broad side of a barn.” He released the draw, handing the weapon back to her.

“Hmm. I'll keep it in mind,” she acknowledged absently. “How much force does it generate at a distance of, say, twenty meters?” she asked, left hand drawing and releasing the mechanism several times to memorize the feel of it.

“Enough to punch through plate armor if your aim is true,” he harrumphed at her.

“No need to worry about my aim, old man.” Soriya smiled a predatory smile. “The bolts? And the holster?”

“Here.” He slid a small bandolier belt across the stone slab. “Four bolts, each with a four-pronged quarrel head. Merely devastating if taken in a limb, absolutely lethal if the vitals are struck,” he promised. “If you need more than four, the weapon won't save you.”

As Soriya nodded her understanding, the weaponsmith added, “I threw in a couple of blunts for target practice. Don't want you dulling my quarrel tips while you get the balance down.”

The kunoichi quirked a brow at him.

“Thanks. Although I am somewhat familiar with the weapon. Who do you think helped Emiko test the early designs?” After a moment, she relented, “Although I admit, this weapon is markedly superior to Emiko's earlier models.” She smiled. “It seems the price of a master smith's touch is well worth the exorbitant cost.”

Yamota grunted, though she could tell he was pleased with the praise. Passing her the black leather holster, he demonstrated the correct placement of the weapon into its sheath. Soriya held out her arms, allowing the weaponsmith to move behind her, looping the leather harness over slender shoulders. The unfamiliar weight tugged at the kunoichi's short black jacket and cropped top. She shrugged, eventually settling the crossbow at her upper back. After assuring herself that a quick right-handed reach over the shoulder allowed an easy draw of the weapon, Soriya donned the bandolier, adjusting the fall of the belt diagonally across her body from right to left.

“How does it look?” she asked, holding still under his penetrating appraisal.

Yamota made some minor adjustments to the fall of the bandolier, then stood back, admiring his handiwork. Fingers rose to his beard once more and he nodded approvingly.

“Excellent. I cannot see the weapon at all from the front, though the bandolier does give it away, somewhat. Perhaps you should consider a waist belt for the bolts instead?”

“I have something that should work. I'll think on it,” Soriya promised. She hesitated, then added haltingly, “Thank you, Aruka-sensei. You've really outdone yourself here. Emiko would have loved this weapon, truly. I'll do my best to bear it in her stead.” Long lashes swept down, brushing alabaster cheeks, then rose to meet his gaze. “She would've liked that, don't you think?”

The master smith eyed the woman before him silently, black orbs unblinking in his wizened face. As the kunoichi turned to leave, he spoke.

“Weapon like that deserves a name. What will you call her?”

She paused in the doorway, long ponytail swaying slightly. Aloud, she mused, “This is a weapon for stalking prey; its strike is swift and silent.” She faced him, then bowed. “I will call her 'Cat's Eye.'”

With that, she was gone. The weaponsmith stared at the spot the jonin had just vacated.

“A fitting name, that,” he decided. “And a fitting weapon for that one, as well.”

Turning back to the stone slab, he closed the now-empty box. Tucking it under one arm, he returned the room to order, flipping off the light switch and shutting and locking the door behind him. Placing a palm above the handle to rearm the sensor, he allowed a grin to twist his lips. If his apprentice noticed the rare expression when he returned to the smithy, the young man was wise enough not to comment on it.

XXX

The Copy Ninja halted in front of the gate that led to the Hokage's Tower. He considered his objectives once more. The first one being: get Soriya reinstated to full jonin status as soon as possible.

To this end, Soriya had agreed he should brief the Hokage on the kunoichi's suspicions regarding Akira Kanzin and his supposed death. Kakashi had also persuaded her to let him inform Tsunade of the details of her battle with Yukio Ryuji and his men. She'd resisted at first, willing to let the uncertainty surrounding those events cast a pall over her future as a ninja. A penance for sins committed, she'd called it.

He had argued forcefully against this, eventually appealing to her strong sense of duty. If Tsunade distrusted her, Soriya would not be permitted to use her abilities in ways that could best benefit and protect the village. The telepath was unwilling to risk the loss of life that could theoretically result, and so he had won. Though she hadn't been happy about it, he recalled, wincing slightly.

Kakashi had very carefully avoided mentioning that allowing him to explain the incident would possibly save Soriya's life. Their trust and intimacy was too new for him to accurately predict her reaction. He preferred not to chance it, merely accepting the gift of her eventual assent. He had been appropriately grateful, driving all thoughts of guilt and anger from her mind, at least for the next hour or so.

The elite jonin cracked a smug grin from behind his mask. He'd definitely ask Tsunade to discontinue the ANBU surveillance on Soriya. It was fast becoming an inconvenience—one with which he didn't want to deal on a daily basis—now that she was no longer recuperating at home.

With these goals firmly fixed in his mind, the Copy Ninja winked at the security camera above the door, offering a jaunty wave. ANBU should've had plenty of time to alert the Hokage to his presence. Passing easily through the gateway, Kakashi entered the Tower.

Inside, the immense atrium took up most of the first floor. At the moment, it was quiet and seemingly empty, save for the alert chunin seated behind a large counter at the far end of the room. Kakashi crossed the vast exposed space nonchalantly, strolling over to the brown-haired man. He kept his arms loosely at his sides, hands open. Though the room appeared deserted, he knew any sudden or threatening movement on his part would be exceedingly unwise.

The circular room's ceiling was high, ringed by a balcony with shadowed alcoves. There were undoubtedly bowmen present, and at this range, they could hardly miss. He did not wish to test his Sharingan and reflexes all because of a misunderstanding. The space between the elite jonin's shoulder blades itched, but he ignored the sensation, focusing on the young man seated at the desk.

“My name is Kakashi Hatake. I need to speak with the Hokage. Is she available?”

“Place your hand here, Hatake-san.” The chunin gestured to a square metal sensor with the outline of a hand imprinted on its surface.

The Copy Ninja complied, as the meticulous shinobi checked a readout on one of the many monitors behind the counter. After a moment, he nodded. “Go on up, Hatake-san. She's expecting you.” The chunin indicated the steps leading to the western balustrade. “Take those stairs to the third floor. The Hokage is in her office.”

“Thanks.”

Kakashi turned, moving leisurely toward the stairway. As he mounted the stone stairs, his hands slipped into trouser pockets, mind focusing on the upcoming interview.

The third floor arrived quickly, and was much busier. People scurried here and there, often with thick sheafs of documents filling their arms. The shinobi's eyebrow rose.

_Wonder what all the fuss is about?_

Approaching the Hokage's office door, he saw it was flanked by two chunin, visibly armed with katana.

_Unusual. Tsunade's not usually so paranoid. She must be trying to impress someone._

“Yo,” he greeted the guards.

The man on the right, recognizing the Copy Ninja, said, “Go on in, Kakashi. But be careful, she's in a mood.”

“Thanks for the warning, Ryoma.” His dark eye gleamed with mischief. “But I think I'll knock.”

“Don't say I didn't warn you,” Ryoma shrugged, as the jonin reached out, rapping knuckles sharply against the oak-framed door.

“What?!” snapped the Hokage's voice from within. “No more reports, Shizune, I mean it!” she roared, as Kakashi stuck his head in the door.

Laconically, he observed, “You seem a little stressed, Tsunade.” He noted the piles of papers scattered across her desk. “Shizune keeping you busy, I see.”

The Hokage, youthful blond visage somewhat marred by the pair of reading glasses perched on the end of her nose, grimaced. “It's all the preparation for the summit this fall. It's burying me in paperwork!” she complained. “The only good thing is that Leaf Village won't have to play host again for a few years. What a security and logistics nightmare! Almost makes me hope I'm dead by then,” she grumbled darkly.

“I can come back later, if you'd prefer,” Kakashi offered, mirth lacing his voice.

“Oh, no, you don't! Get in here and save me from all these reports,” Tsunade commanded. “And next time, don't bother with all the security nonsense. I haven't time to be approving your every visit. Just drop in through the window like last time,” she huffed.

“Last time, you wanted me to knock,” he reminded her mildly, entering the office and closing the door behind him. “I thought I'd comply this once, just for fun. What's with the guards, anyway? ANBU is usually more discreet.”

She snorted. “They're for the benefit of the 'coordinators' the future guests of the summit have seen fit to foist upon me. Every day it's something else.” Her voice whined, in imitation of the most annoying offenders. “Lord X's delegation just can't be housed near the delegation from the land of Y, because they hate each others' guts. Not to mention Lord Z's delegation, who pretends neutrality in order to broker a peace, while secretly undermining it to sell arms to both sides on the sly.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “There are days when I hate this job. Please, tell me you're going to brighten up my dreary morning. What have you to report?”

The Hokage resettled herself in her chair, shoving stacks of papers to one side. Impatiently, she gestured to one of the chairs in front of her desk.

The Copy Ninja took the proffered seat, beginning his narrative in smooth, easy tones. Starting with the events at the Itasuki residence two nights ago, he described his observations of the telepath's actions to aid her friend. He also related the conversation with Enya Ryusuki, and Soriya's subsequent summoning of Bathsheba and Ra. He deliberately omitted his snooping in Soriya's dresser and the letter he'd found secreted there. That was personal, and nobody's business.

Tsunade's brow wrinkled at the mention of Bathsheba and Ra.

“Huh. Those two again? That must have been fun,” she teased. “You know, the psych-nin wanted to pin them both to the wall by their long, slinky tails by the time Soriya was released.”

“I can certainly imagine it,” he remarked dryly. “But they do seem to be able to replenish chakra, and perhaps even heal the chakra pathways to some extent. She was much recovered by the time I returned from town, which couldn't have been more than an hour and a half.”

Quietly, he added, “By the way, Soriya is aware that we've spoken. She also knows of my conversation with Enya. I couldn't keep it from her, nor would I want to. We agreed I'd report to you right now, in fact.” He faced the Hokage squarely. “If I'm to help save her, as you've asked, she has to trust me. And I have to be worthy of that trust. Please understand this.”

Tsunade observed him in silence. Kakashi returned the amber gaze soberly, his expression guarded. After a moment, she nodded. He continued his narrative.

In a bland, emotionless tone, he relayed the events of the dream into which Soriya had unwittingly pulled him. Though the shinobi's voice was calm, his fists clenched where they rested on bent knees, betraying his rage. He spared himself nothing. If she could conceive the plan and survive its implementation, he could tell the story to aid her. He contented himself with describing Ryuji's gory death in great detail, satisfaction evident in his dark eye. He went on, relating the strange manifestation of Soriya's Kekkei Genkai.

“Soriya doesn't believe she could summon that magnitude of power at will. She feels it was the shock of Kaito's death and the subsequent threat to her own life that forced the instinctive reaction.”

“So you are saying she cannot control it?” Tsunade pressed him.

The Copy Ninja hesitated. He was on dangerous ground here.

“Not exactly,” he hedged. “Clearly, she did exercise some restraint. She resisted attacking the men until one of them foolishly exhorted the others to kill her. And she merely held them in thrall initially, before ultimately sending them to their fates. At great personal risk to her own life. Not to mention, her sanity.”

“Yet she did kill them all...even the men not physically in the immediate area,” the Hokage pointed out.

Kakashi shrugged, meeting her gaze levelly. “She made a judgment call in the heat of battle. She tested them with her power. They failed. It's no more than any shinobi in her place would have done, had they her ability.”

Tsunade cocked her head. “Perhaps,” she allowed, noncommittally.

The Copy Ninja pressed his case, appealing to the Hokage's practical nature. “If she could learn to actively summon and control this power, it could be exceedingly useful to the village.”

Tsunade smiled wryly. “Well, I see Soriya definitely has a champion in you. What else have you discovered?”

“From recollections gleaned from Yukio Ryuji's mind, Soriya believes her uncle, Akira Kanzin, is alive. She thinks he may have engineered his own kidnapping, then faked his death at Ryuji's hands. Ryuji feared him, from what she could gather. If Kanzin survived the fall over the Ganji, he may have been using Ryuji as a puppet.”

The Hokage's eyes narrowed. “To what end?”

Kakashi shrugged. “As of now, we can only guess. But if Sand's information about Ryuji being behind both Sumao and Kurumi Kanzin's disappearance, as well as the Itasukis'murders is accurate, then it seems to me that Soriya has been Kanzin's target all along.”

He paused, continuing more slowly, “What bothers me is not knowing _why_ he wants her. Is he after her abilities in order to further some design of his own? And if so, why only two attempts in all these years? He can't mean to kill her or surely more attempts would have been made. Especially when she was undercover in Wind Country. I don't understand why he didn't move against her then. It would have been the perfect opportunity with Ryuji there to help,” he mused, then added offhandedly, “Soriya feels her uncle may be insane. It does plague the clan's genealogy.”

“Perhaps Akira Kanzin no longer had control of his puppet,” Tsunade surmised, brushing aside the insanity comment. “According to the mission reports Ryuji was excessively paranoid. Maybe he became uncooperative, and Kanzin no longer trusted him to apprehend Soriya. Ryuji did not seem to be aware of her true identity, even after the Prince died.” The Hokage shook her head in exasperation. “Too much speculation. And irrelevant, in any case. We cannot allow Soriya to fall into anyone's hands, of course. The sooner we deal with this rogue psych-nin, if he truly is behind this, the better.”

Kakashi said nothing. After a moment, he spoke tentatively, “I'm not certain how Soriya really feels about this. She's angry at Kanzin, I know. A blind man could sense her rage. But there is also confusion. I don't know if she will simply stand by while he is killed.

“She wants...no... _needs_ to know the truth. She blames herself for the tragedies in her past. If only he could tell her why...” He lifted a hand as though weighing the odds. “Maybe learning what really happened will help her heal.

“In any case, I don't want to have to fight her in order to take him out. At least, not until she finds out what she needs to know,” he added, conceding the possibility it might come to that.

Tsunade chewed her lip, scrutinizing the masked shinobi carefully. Finally, she waved a hand in acquiescence.

“Fair enough. Do not terminate Kanzin on sight. Allow Soriya to make contact with him. I'd like to know the reasons behind his actions myself. Use your judgment. But,” the Hokage cautioned sternly, “do not let him harm her or take her from us. I don't want to have to send the RU after her again. Or ANBU. You understand.” She fixed the Copy Ninja with a steady gaze. He returned it evenly.

“So. What does Soriya intend to do next?” she asked.

“We're headed to Tiger Falls to test her theory regarding Kanzin's water jutsu.” He rolled his visible eye. “I believe this entails flinging herself over the falls and seeing if she comes out alive.”

Tsunade let out a short laugh. “Keeping you on your toes is she? Good. You need a new challenge. Your chunin are maturing rapidly. Soon they'll be jonin and on to other things.” She stood. Kakashi smoothly rose to his feet as well.

“Was there anything else?” the Hokage asked.

“I'd like you to withdraw the ANBU team covering Soriya. It's an unnecessary waste of manpower at this juncture. Although continuing the surveillance on the Itasukis might be wise, at least until we've dealt with Kanzin. Pulling Soriya's team may even draw him out of hiding,” Kakashi ventured.

Tsunade appeared to think it over. Smiling slyly, she assented. “We don't want you overusing that Hidden Mist jutsu, now do we?” She laughed as he colored, caught out. “Consider it done. Now get out of here. I'm dying to get back to these reports, can't you tell?” She made a face. “Use the window,” she directed. As an afterthought, she added, “Have you spoken with Ibiki Morino yet?”

“I'm headed there now,” he acknowledged, stiffening slightly.

“He may remember something useful about Akira Kanzin. I never knew the man, but Ibiki was new with Interrogation back then, so he may have some insight.” Shrewd eyes marked the barely discernible tensing of the jonin's shoulders. Divining something of his feelings toward the head of the Torture and Interrogation Unit, Tsunade cautioned, “Tread carefully with Ibiki, Kakashi. I know you are angry with him. And with me.”

The Copy Ninja halted before the open window, but did not reply. After a moment, the Hokage sighed heavily. “I don't disagree that your anger is justified. We saw the same shadows rising in her that you did. The rage and grief she carried, along with the guilt she bears simply for being born with such a gift. We used her, taking advantage of her obsessive drive for the benefit of the village.” She paused as the shinobi turned, narrowly observing her weary expression.

“We did what we judged necessary, based on the information available to us at the time. Soriya understands this well. Better than most shinobi. I told you before: I admire her greatly. She is practical, as am I. She does what is required, putting emotions aside. As do I.

“If it makes you feel more generous toward Ibiki, I'll tell you he came to me twice during Soriya's training, attempting to persuade me to reconsider taking on the mission.”

Kakashi's brow rose in surprise. Her revelation startled him into speaking. “Why would he do that?”

Tsunade shrugged. “Perhaps for the same reason you walked away years ago.” He flinched as the barb struck. She took no pleasure in it.

_Yes, Kakashi. We are, none of us, guiltless here. As you well know._

“Perhaps Ibiki sensed she was embarking on a course of self-destruction and he knew he was enabling it. I don't know. He asked twice; I refused him. Perhaps you can ask him when you see him.” Her tone indicated the interview was at an end.

Kakashi stood motionless for a moment, left hand clenched against his thigh out of the Hokage's line of sight. She had already turned her attention back to one of the many reports cluttering her desk. Without a word, the masked shinobi stepped up to the windowsill, leaping out of sight to the trees below.

XXX

The current head of Leaf Village's Torture and Interrogation Unit surveyed the division's private training ground from the large window of his office. Several teams ran drills below; none required his personal attention. Slowly, a tendril of steam rose from the shinobi's mug of black tea, curling around his scarred face. He brought the hot beverage to his lips, tasting it. The corners of his mouth moved slightly, merely hinting at a smile of appreciation.

Staring out the window, Ibiki Morino pondered the latest mission directive from the Hokage. His Unit was being pressed into service as additional security for the upcoming summit. He hoped they'd be ready in time. Guard duty was not the particular _forte_ of his people—at least, not over crowds of diplomats—but he supposed they all had to do what was needful. The Hokage could not allow any mishaps at the meeting of the continent's most important civilian and shinobi leaders. Any breach of security that allowed harm to befall a visiting dignitary would severely damage Leaf's reputation, possibly even igniting another covert ninja war.

To say that not all the attending groups were on amicable terms was the height of understatement. Morino's mission was to help ensure no inflammatory events occurred.

He considered the benefits of changing the squad rotations from twelve hour to eight hour shifts. It would keep his people fresher, although they would be stretched a bit thinly. He decided to consult with the Hokage and the other commanders before making the adjustment. Carefully, he set the mug of tea down on the desk beside him. Then, whirling quickly toward the open door, he launched a kunai from the hidden sheath strapped to his left forearm. Spinning end over end, it thunked solidly into the wooden frame, mere inches from the head of the silver-haired shinobi standing just inside his office.

Kakashi paused in the doorway, hands stuffed casually in his pockets. Coolly, his eye flicked from the knife embedded in the wood beside his head to the scarred man who waited impassively, arms crossed over his chest.

“You missed,” the Copy Ninja observed dryly.

The gray-clad shinobi grunted. “If I'd wanted to hit you, there'd be blood in my office right now. I'm far too busy to waste time having the floor cleaned.” He added, “Consider it my first and only warning. My subordinates learn quickly not to approach me unannounced. I don't always react well to people sneaking up on me.”

Kakashi held the older man's sharp gaze for several seconds, then closed his eye, slowly drawing a breath in through his nose. After a moment, he let it out.

“I apologize. I'm not here to antagonize you or take up too much of your time. I simply need to ask you some questions regarding Akira Kanzin, Soriya's uncle. You knew him, I believe?”

Ibiki Morino stared at the Copy Ninja. Eventually, he nodded. “Tsunade told me you'd be dropping by. Frankly, I expected you before now.”

Hearing the mild rebuke in the words, Kakashi shrugged. “I've been a little busy.” He did not move to sit, merely stood in the center of the room waiting calmly.

The corner of Morino's mouth quirked.

_So, that's how it will be. You don't like me, but you'll work with me for Soriya's sake. Good._

Aloud, the older ninja responded, “I did indeed know Soriya's uncle. That was twenty-five years ago, however. I'd recently been reassigned to this unit from ANBU.” He did not add that the transfer occurred as a direct result of injuries he sustained after being captured and tortured during a mission. His story was well-known within the village, as well-known as the black cap and gloves he wore to hide the worst of the damage.

They did nothing to conceal the scars on his face.

“I worked with Kanzin only briefly; he died soon after I joined the unit. Although I knew him from before,” Morino paused, then added grudgingly, “during the period of recovery from my injuries. You are, of course, aware that a psych consult is standard procedure before severely injured shinobi are allowed to return to duty.” He waited for Kakashi's nod of acknowledgment, then elaborated.

“Kanzin met with me three times, as I recall. Nothing unusual occurred during the sessions.” He met the Copy Ninja's gaze squarely. “I will not speak of them further. Do not ask.

“I will, however, speak of Akira Kanzin's connection to one Haruma Anji. Better known as Yukio Ryuji—as you undoubtedly know, since you've spoken with the Hokage. Anji was the man responsible for kidnapping Soriya's uncle, ultimately resulting in his death.”

“Perhaps,” Kakashi allowed, voice skeptical, “although recent events cast doubt on the veracity of that particular scenario.”

The scarred shinobi's eyes narrowed.

“Interesting,” he commented, bringing a black-gloved hand to his chin. His brow furrowed in thought. After a moment, he ventured, “Soriya believes her uncle is still alive?”

The Copy Ninja shrugged. “It's a possibility, although we have no proof as yet. Something she glimpsed in Ryuji's mind aroused the suspicion. You knew Kanzin. What was he like?”

Morino turned toward the window, revealing his profile. He did not turn his back on the elite jonin entirely; he had not risen to his current position by being foolhardy. Though he doubted the man would attack him. It was not his style. Kakashi was known for the control he exhibited, as well as for possessing an inordinate amount of good sense.

_Just what Soriya needs._

Aloud, he mused, “I'm not sure the few recollections I have will be of much use, but I remember Dr. Kanzin as a quiet, yet compelling man. He seemed genuinely concerned for his patients and was a careful listener. I would venture to say that he was also driven—wanting to save the world, you know. Most doctors do, at one time or another, I suppose.

“At twenty-seven he was already the head of Psych—an impressive feat in itself, and well deserved, by all accounts. Dr. Kanzin was reputed to routinely tackle the most difficult, recalcitrant cases, yet had a surprising rate of success in treating those patients. He was highly respected by his peers and the staff.”

Kakashi heard the slight hesitation in Morino's voice. “But?” he prodded.

The older jonin shook his head. Fixing the Copy Ninja with a steady gaze, he cautioned, “Understand that this is merely an impression I formed based on a chance encounter with Dr. Kanzin during Anji's internment at Psych. I didn't think much on it at the time, and later, after he died, not at all. Only now, with the possibility he is alive being put forth, does it come to my mind. Whether it's significant or not, I can't say.”

The masked shinobi nodded as Morino continued, “I was assigned to a guard rotation at Psych while Anji was being...studied.” The corner of his lip quirked slightly. “I had just returned from checking the video monitors when I encountered Dr. Kanzin leaving Anji's cell. Normally there would be nothing unusual in this. But it was very late, about 3 o'clock in the morning, as I recall. And the doctor seemed startled when I approached him, almost nervous. He explained he'd had to administer a late dose of medication for testing to be done later that morning. I checked the prisoner after he left, but all seemed in order. Nothing untoward occurred over the next several days, but then a week later, Anji and Dr. Kanzin had disappeared.”

“How did it happen?”

“According to cameras stationed at the entrance, they just strolled out the front door in broad daylight. Anji was wearing scrubs and a lab coat. It looked as though he had some sort of concealed weapon on Dr. Kanzin. We couldn't be sure from the angle. Now, I wonder...” his voice trailed off as he replayed the events in his mind.

“In any case, they left the immediate vicinity quickly. It was almost an hour before they were missed. An ANBU squad picked up their trail on the outskirts of the village heading west. Assuming Anji was trying to make it back to Wind Country, we pursued, although they had a fairly good head start.

“At one point, we lost all trace of them. We thought Anji must have used some type of obfuscation jutsu.” Morino paused, considering. “I wonder now if that wasn't Dr. Kanzin's doing. Anji had not shown such an ability previously. It took a few hours for ANBU to locate them again. It was almost as if they were able to cloak their presence—much like Soriya is able to suppress her chakra, in fact.

“By the time we tracked them down, they'd reached the banks of the Ganji River, near the border of Fire and Wind.”

Kakashi interrupted, “Doesn't that seem odd to you? Presumably, Anji had eluded pursuit, either through his own skill or with Dr. Kanzin's help. Why would he then allow himself to be spotted, trapped against the river like that?”

Morino's mouth formed a grim line. “Of course, in retrospect, it does seem suspicious. Also, Anji could have killed Dr. Kanzin at any time. He could have traveled more quickly alone. Unless he needed help eluding his pursuers.”

“I think Kanzin wanted you to find them. He needed witnesses to his supposed 'death.' And if he could conceal his presence, it would explain why neither ANBU nor the RU could find the bodies.”

“Yes, that was frustrating. We never had a satisfactory explanation as to the lack of bodies,” Morino affirmed. “We explored the lake and river below the falls exhaustively, but turned up nothing. After a couple days of fruitless searching, the third Hokage called a halt to our efforts. It was decided that the bodies had probably become trapped in rocks at the bottom of the falls. No one thought it possible they could've survived the plunge. Ganji Falls measures two hundred and eight meters high.”

“Soriya thinks her uncle may have used a special water ninjutsu to slow the descent and cushion the fall.”

“Ah, yes... Soriya excels at water style jutsu herself. I suppose it _is_ possible,” Morino agreed, shrugging. “Though, to control that _volume_ of water, moving at speed, and from such a height, all while falling...” he trailed off. “Even now, it seems unlikely—although we know Anji somehow survived.”

“Soriya thinks she knows how they managed it. She plans to test her theory at Tiger Falls.”

The scarred shinobi snorted. He could imagine the sort of “test” she had in mind.

“I hope you weren't planning on letting her go alone. She is prone to taking unnecessary risks, despite my repeated attempts to break her of the habit. I imagine her teammates' deaths have only made her more reckless. Perhaps you can persuade her to be more cautious of her safety. Dead shinobi are of no use to anyone.” The eyes that pierced the Copy Ninja were deadly serious. “Do not fail her.” Though unspoken, the word “again” lingered clearly in the air between them.

Kakashi stiffened, silver brow dipping in anger. “You presume overmuch,” he warned quietly.

“Do I?”

The Copy Ninja's jaw tightened. He forced himself to speak calmly, not wanting to overreact to the older shinobi's words. Soriya trusted this man. She needed all the friends she could get. Kakashi did not wish to alienate him, but he wanted to make his position crystal clear.

“I willingly admit I failed her years ago. I should have stayed involved; instead, I withdrew.” He paused a moment, then threw the verbal knife. “But I will not accept all the blame. _I_ was not the hand that forged this weapon, flaws and all,” he said pointedly. “You saw what was happening. I know you tried to get Tsunade to abort the mission. So don't think to chastise me for my failure when your own is just as glaring, if not more so.” Though he struggled for composure, Kakashi's voice rose in volume as his visible eye glared at the grim-faced man across the room.

Morino stared impassively at the silver-haired shinobi. “Huh. Fair enough,” he allowed finally. _You'll do just fine._

The moment stretched between them until a knock sounded on the office door. A familiar feminine voice broke the uncomfortable silence.

“Ibiki-sensei? Sorry to bother you, but I—”

Soriya halted on the threshold, mouth agape. The palpable tension in the room assaulted her senses. Gray eyes flicked from the kunai embedded in the door frame to Kakashi, then on to her mentor. His habitually grim visage told her nothing, although she thought his posture seemed more rigid than usual. The kunoichi advanced warily into the room. She skirted the Copy Ninja's right side, trying to read the expression in his dark eye. Though he maintained a calm, relaxed stance, the telepath could feel anger simmering just below the surface.

“Kakashi. Ibiki-sensei. Just what is going on here?”

When neither man answered, Soriya glanced at Kakashi's uncovered forearm, debating the wisdom of forcibly extracting some answers. Quickly, she squelched the notion, but he must have guessed the direction of her thoughts. Shaking himself slightly, the Copy Ninja swallowed back his resentment, brow smoothing as he focused on the waiting redhead.

“Soriya. I came to ask Morino-san some questions about your uncle.” His voice was bland, revealing none of the tension she had sensed earlier.

She looked askance at him, narrowed eyes darting to Morino suspiciously, “That's not what had you looking daggers at each other. And throwing them, apparently.” She frowned accusingly at her former teacher. “You were talking about me, weren't you?”

When the older shinobi did not deign to reply, Soriya's brows drew together in a frown. Her eyes glinting dangerously and she opened her mouth to vent her annoyance at them both.

Forestalling her, Morino cut in coldly, “What Kakashi and I were discussing when you unceremoniously barged into my office is none of your business.”

Caught with her mouth open, the kunoichi shut it with an audible snap. Straightening to her full height, she issued a perfunctory bow. “I see.” Her voice evinced no emotion, eyes shading to a flat, steel gray. “Forgive me for disturbing you.” Woodenly, she turned for the door, opening it silently.

Both men started slightly as the crossbow strapped to her back came into view. Neither had realized she carried such a weapon, although both knew Emiko Hagane had. Clearly, something had changed. Ibiki wondered what the change portended.

Kakashi's brow had risen in surprise at Morino's verbal chastisement and the kunoichi's acceptance of it, despite the deadly look in her eyes. He spoke her name. She halted in the doorway, waiting. She did not look at him.

“Will you please wait outside for me? I won't be long.”

Exposing her profile, the kunoichi nodded assent through lowered lashes. Crossing over the threshold, she pulled the door shut behind her. It latched with an audible “click.”

The Copy Ninja glanced at the scarred shinobi.

“Was that really necessary?”

Morino shrugged. “She's persistent. I've always found the direct approach works best. Did you really _want_ to explain what we were discussing?”

He moved to the large chair behind his desk. If he seemed to collapse rather than sit in it, neither man chose to notice. Contemplating the masked shinobi, Morino added shrewdly, “I have some leeway in speaking to her so. A benefit of working closely with her in a position of authority for many months. The habit of obedience, once ingrained, is difficult to break. She will accept such bluntness from me, where she would not from you, her lover,” he reasoned, making a calming motion with his hand as Kakashi frowned. “Don't get upset. Ultimately, your claim on her has the potential to sway her actions much more so than mine.” He passed a hand over his face wearily.

“I'll tell you, as a peace offering, that Soriya is special to me. I have no children, nor am I likely to, in this life. The few students I train are as close as I choose to come to fatherhood. Of these few, Soriya has affected me the most deeply. Or perhaps I am just getting old.” He sighed.

“You are quite correct to accuse me of the more glaring failure. I honed the weapon she is today. I could see the rage and pain that drove her to succeed. She has been the most damaged of my 'children,' no question.” Pride crept into his tone. “Despite that, she mastered every task I set her, no matter how difficult or brutal. The Hokage and I were constantly amazed by her increasing command over such powerful abilities. But I've seen enough of life and death to know that anger like hers doesn't just burn itself out. It requires a target, and failing that, I feared it would engulf her.” He shook his head.

“After Emiko died and we received the urgent message from Kaito, I was certain rage had finally led to her destruction. But once again, she surprised me.” He paused, searching the silver-haired shinobi's masked face.

“I can still sense the anger in her, but it has been muted. Blunted, if you will. And now she carries a crossbow. She never did, before. I'm not certain, but I believe this to be a good omen. Perhaps it is your doing. Perhaps not. In any case, I am...grateful...to see this small change in her.” He closed his eyes briefly.

“Be assured,” he cautioned, “the Hokage monitors the situation closely. Ever a gambler, she holds her hand, waiting to see what develops. But she is only willing to risk so much. Help Soriya resolve this situation quickly. Above all, do not let her anger and desire for revenge destroy her. I realize you work to prevent this already. Know you can call on me should the need arise. We seek the same outcome, you and I.” Face solemn, the older man settled back in his chair, watching the elite jonin carefully.

Kakashi's lidded gaze appraised Morino in return. Finally, offering the scarred shinobi a respectful nod, he asked the question he really wanted answered.

“What has Tsunade ordered you to do if I fail?”

Gravely, the head of the Torture and Interrogation Unit stared at the younger man. Finally, he said, “I would strongly advise you not to fail.”

With that dire pronouncement, he turned back toward the window, picking up his mug. As the Copy Ninja quietly let himself out, Ibiki brought the drink to his lips, tasting it.

The tea had grown cold.

XXX

Kakashi spotted the kunoichi under the shade of a mountain laurel just outside the compound's front gate. Strolling over, he let his eye rove down her scantily clad body. Today she wore knee-high black boots and a black miniskirt that was barely decent. The matching zippered top was form-fitting and left her toned midriff bare, although she donned a long-sleeved cropped jacket, also black, over it. He noticed she was wearing the choker he'd given her. A thrill of desire ran through him.

_Mine._

The ponytailed redhead leaned idly against the tree, long legs stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankle. Her arms were folded tightly under her chest. Kakashi swallowed, remembering how it had felt to touch her. He loved that she was lushly curved, rather than willowy, like so many of the kunoichi. Almost absently, he noted the crossbow she carried was completely concealed at her back. Looking carefully, he detected the bolts hidden in the wide leather belt at her waist.

“See anything you like?” Soriya drawled, observing his perusal of her body with an arched brow.

“Mm. Many things, as a matter of fact.” He commented mildly, “I think your outfit is missing some cloth. Not that I'm complaining, mind you.”

She shrugged, the motion slightly hampered by the weapon harness. “I'm wearing my swim suit. We should be able to reach Tiger Falls a few hours before nightfall if we leave soon. I want to make some attempts before dark.” She shot him a calculating glance. “Bring a change of clothes. Once I get the jutsu down, I'll want to try it with a passenger, so to speak.”

“And I get to be the guinea pig, right?” He sighed dramatically. “Lucky me. All right. When do we leave?”

“Meet me at the main gate in thirty minutes' time?”

“Sounds good.” He paused. “Hey, what did you want to see Morino about anyway?”

Straightening from her slouch against the tree, Soriya sniffed, tossing her ponytail. “Nothing that can't wait until later. Let him wonder for awhile. Serves him right for taking that tone with me.”

The Copy Ninja grinned inwardly. She sounded just like a teenager defying her father. Reaching out, he tugged her ponytail playfully. “Be nice. He worries about you, you know. For some reason, he seems to think you're reckless. I can't imagine why.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Ha ha. Since when are you and he on such good terms, anyway? Didn't he just throw a kunai at you?”

Kakashi waved a hand dismissively. “Eh, that was my own fault for sneaking into his office unannounced.”

She stared at him in amazement. Sheepishly, he scratched the back of his head. “What can I say? I'm a ninja. Sneaking just comes naturally.”

She snorted. “And you think I'm reckless! Kaito learned the hard way not to test Ibiki-sensei. That's how he got the notch in his ear, as a matter of fact.” Cupping the shinobi's cloth-covered jaw in her hand, she turned his face, scrutinizing him carefully. “Huh. No blood. Ibiki-sensei must like you.”

“I'll consider myself fortunate,” he replied good-naturedly. “Now, I'd best get going if I'm to meet you in half an hour.”

“You better not be late,” she warned. “I know how you are, don't forget.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he winked at her, hands forming the seals of his translocation jutsu. A puff of smoke later, he was gone.

Soriya smirked at the spot where the Copy Ninja had been standing. “We'll just see, won't we?” Then she performed her own jutsu, vanishing from sight.


	8. Chapter 8

_Damn!_

The Copy Ninja sped quickly toward the main gate. He knew he was very late. This was bad, although normally it wouldn't have bothered him. He often made his chunin wait around for hours, eventually showing up with a flimsy reason for his tardiness.

Truthfully, it amused him.

A lot of missions involved long periods of waiting around. Kakashi liked to think of it as 'extra training.' Besides, they couldn't exactly start a mission without him anyway. Soriya, on the other hand, would have no compunction about going on ahead alone.

When he left her at Ibiki's compound, he had truly intended to be on time. Or at least, only five to ten minutes late. But when the Copy Ninja arrived at his apartment, a technician was waiting outside the door. Kakashi's air conditioner had been on the fritz for weeks, and he really wanted it fixed. Although it was still early summer and not very humid, that would change before too much longer. Soon, the heat would be sweltering, making his small apartment nigh unbearable. He let the man in, not anticipating it would take as long as it had. He was an hour and a half late by the time the work to repair the unit was completed.

He had little hope Soriya was still cooling her heels at the main gate. Arriving at the eight meter-high doors, he searched for any sign of the kunoichi. A group of kids were playing under some trees, drawing figures in the dirt with sticks. One of the children, a dark-haired boy, looked curiously at the masked shinobi.

“Hey, ninja-san,” he called out. “Are you looking for a lady with long, red hair?”

Kakashi strolled over to the group, hands in pockets. He kept his face and posture relaxed, so as not to frighten the children. Although, if they lived nearby, they were probably used to seeing ninja come and go.

“Why, yes. Have you seen her?”

“Yeah. She left a message for you. She said to tell you she was going on ahead and you should 'get a move on and try to catch up.'” He observed the masked shinobi keenly, interested to see his reaction to the cheeky message.

“Did she?” He rubbed his jaw before asking, “Did she seem angry?”

“Nah. More like resigned.”

“How long ago did she leave?”

“She waited about twenty minutes, then asked us to give you the message,” the boy answered. “She figured you'd be along in an hour or so. Looks like she knows you pretty well.”

“Ah, you could say that,” Kakashi rubbed the back of his head wryly. Waving his thanks, he turned toward the gate.

Tiger Falls lay about three hours northeast of the village. Soriya had just over an hour on him. If he hurried, he might be able to catch her before she attempted the jump. It was too great a distance to translocate, even if he knew the terrain around the falls well enough to risk it. Inwardly cursing his poor timing, the elite jonin took off, running quickly and silently through the forest.

XXX

Two hours and forty minutes later, the Copy Ninja threaded his way through the trees on the south side of Tiger River. He could hear the roar of the falls up ahead. Of Soriya, there was no sign, although he knew she must be very near. Leaping to the limb of a large chestnut overlooking fast-flowing water, the elite jonin spied a pale figure clad in a black two-piece swim suit.

Poised on a flat rock, the kunoichi stood amidst the rushing water at the very edge of the falls. His eye focused on the long ponytail trailing down her back. It lay flat, the hair dark and heavy with water. Relaxing slightly, he watched as she raised slender arms perpendicular to her body. She'd made the jump at least once already, he guessed.

_Looks like she survived it._

Before he could call out to her, she pushed off the rock, launching into a graceful pike above the water. She seemed to hover a moment, lithe body unfolding into a long, slim line, before slicing cleanly into the rushing spray. Kakashi thought he saw the kunoichi's hands begin the seals of a jutsu, but lost sight of her almost immediately. Heart pounding, he hurried his cliffside descent leaping recklessly from tree to tree. As he neared the river basin below, the shinobi glimpsed a curious phenomenon. Down the center of the gushing flow, a bubble-like area about two meters across and four meters in length seemed to be moving at roughly a quarter of the speed of the rest of the flow. The strange bubble merged abruptly with the violently foaming water at the bottom of the falls, disappearing before he could examine it more closely.

Anxiously, the Copy Ninja waited for Soriya to surface. The seconds ticked by. Just when he was really starting to worry, her dark head finally appeared fifty meters from the base of the waterfall. He thought he heard laughter, but the roar of crashing water drowned out the sound.

Steadily, with strong, sure strokes, the kunoichi swam for the grassy north bank. The south bank was rocky, with small pebbles and jagged stones littering the ground. As Soriya reached the edge of the basin, Kakashi picked a spot on the far shore and signed the translocation jutsu. He vanished, reappearing beside the panting woman.

She lay flat on her back, chest heaving, as she waited to recover breath and strength. Far from being surprised at his sudden appearance, she offered a slight flip of her hand in greeting.

“Enjoy the show?” she inquired, voice not quite steady after her exertion.

Inwardly, he winced. He wondered how long she'd been waiting, poised on the rock, for his arrival. She had probably known the instant he'd entered the area. He scrutinized her wet, shivering form, covered only by the swim suit and a kunai sheath strapped to her right thigh. The water's chill caused her nipples to protrude stiffly against the thin material of the zippered bikini top. Desire flashed through him like lightning, but he forced the feeling aside. He remembered he was annoyed with her.

“I seem to recall you promising me not to take unnecessary risks with your life,” he pointed out mildly, crossing his arms. Sighing dramatically, he shook his head. “Oh, how quickly they forget.”

The kunoichi sat up, arching an elegant brow. Hugging bent knees to her chest with goosebump-covered arms, she deflected the rebuke. “Eh, it really wasn't all that dangerous. Or difficult, if you know what you're doing. Besides,” she added, shooting him a challenging glare, _“you_ were late. As usual.”

“True,” the silver-haired shinobi conceded. It was difficult to stay annoyed with her when all he really wanted to do was take up the challenge her pout presented by kissing her senseless. He looked around to distract himself, spotting a backpack, towel, and Soriya's clothes under a clump of ferns. The crossbow was also present, concealed in its holster. He strolled over to the pile, picking up the towel. Tossing it to her, he added ingenuously, “But it wasn't my fault. You see, this technician was waiting at my apartment when I got home—”

Soriya waved him off, wrapping the towel around her shoulders as she stood. “Save it. Sakura, Sasuke, and Naruto may have to listen to your lame excuses because they're your students.” She walked over to him, mouth curving up in a slow smile. He swallowed as she leaned in close, face filling his vision.

“Fortunately,” she murmured, lashes lowering seductively as her head tipped back, _“you_ are not the boss of _me.”_ With that pronouncement, she tossed her head, moving past the Copy Ninja toward her belongings, ponytail saucily flicking water at him in her wake.

Letting out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, Kakashi turned to watch the kunoichi as she dried herself with the towel. He couldn't decide if he wanted to kiss her or spank her.

_Which is probably what she intended._

Slowly, he counted to ten in his head. Then did it again. Eyeing the position of the sun as it drifted lower in the sky, he decided to postpone those thoughts for later. Daylight was becoming precious.

“I deserved that, I guess.” He shrugged. “So. How many times have you been over?” he asked, nodding toward the waterfall.

“This was the third time,” she replied, grin nearly splitting her face. The transient dimple appeared beside her mouth as she explained excitedly, “It's gotten easier. The trick is in controlling the viscosity of the water surrounding me so that the acceleration from the fall is slowed. Also, it's important not to try to manipulate too much of the flow. I overreached the first time,” she admitted, wincing slightly.

Kakashi decided he really didn't want to know the details.

Seeing his look, she rushed on, “Listen. Tiger Falls is one hundred and twenty-two meters high, so it normally takes only five seconds to hit bottom. But I can manipulate the flow of the water, quadrupling the amount of time it takes. Force equals mass times acceleration. The force of impact on the body is still high, but survivable if one hits the water cleanly.” She paused, considering.

“Now, Ganji Falls is two hundred and eight meters high. That means the drop takes, um,” she calculated in her head, “about six and a half seconds. But the energy from the fall is greater because velocity is greater. Akira would have needed to slow his entering speed even more to survive. Not easy, but still doable, from my experience here,” she concluded.

“And you've taken into account Ryuji's added weight? Increase the mass and the force of impact increases,” Kakashi reminded her.

“True...but I think in this case, the energy created by hitting the water is applied evenly to both people.” She frowned, puzzling through the math. After a moment, she shrugged. “I think it's tricky, but manageable. There's one sure way to find out. Let's try it.”

Kakashi sighed. “I _knew_ you were going to say that.” He shook his head, offering a resigned smile from behind his mask. “Okay, I'll play.”

Removing his backpack, the Copy Ninja stripped off his green vest, removing several kunai hidden in various spots on his person. He kept the sheath strapped to his right thigh. Though his body was itself a formidable weapon, he never liked going about unarmed. It was a habit that had kept him alive more times than he could count. Moving to pull the midnight blue undershirt over his head, he hesitated.

“Are we alone here?” he asked the kunoichi. “I didn't see or sense anyone when I arrived, but you probably have more range than I.”

Closing gray eyes, Soriya was silent for several moments. Kakashi felt her chakra flare as she scanned the surrounding terrain. Eventually, she opened her eyes, blinking in the sunlight as dilated pupils returned to normal.

“Not a soul around, as far as I can tell. The nearest village is several miles downstream. The people living there rarely have need to venture this far upriver. There are much easier paths to neighboring villages.”

“Good.” Kakashi tugged the shirt with its attached mask over his head, discarding it in a pile with the rest of his equipment. His hand went to the headband slanted across his brow.

“Mind if I observe your jutsu? It may come in handy at some point.”

“Sure,” she assented gamely as he removed the thin strip of fabric. “Let's hurry before we lose the light,” she urged. “I've got chakra enough for one, possibly two more tries before I have to rest.”

Not wanting to spend chakra on a translocation jutsu, the two shinobi began the climb back up the cliff face. Soriya led, having made the trip twice already. She moved easily through the tree canopy where it was dense, slowing occasionally to cross bare stretches of rock and earth. As they approached the top, the two jonin resorted to pulling themselves hand over hand up the rocky terrain. Upon gaining the summit, Soriya walked upstream a short distance, glancing back at Kakashi. He looked calmly over the drop, keeping his left eye closed. The unveiled Sharingan sapped his strength; he wanted to wait until the last moment before activating it.

Soriya turned to him, hands on hips. “Okay. Akira and Ryuji probably went into the water together, so I think you should hold onto me as we go over. We'll get in down here and let the current carry us. Whatever you do, don't let go,” she admonished. “I'm not exactly sure how far out I can influence the water flow, so it's best we not get separated.”

Kakashi walked toward her, noting as he did so that she seemed to be fighting to keep her gaze on his face. He smiled inwardly. Deciding she deserved a bit of teasing, he locked his arms around her back, pulling her tightly against him.

“Close enough?” he asked, a slow smile spreading across his lips at the kunoichi's startled gasp. She flushed, palms resting flat against his skin. He enjoyed seeing the effect his closeness had on her. But almost immediately, Kakashi realized the flaw in his plan, as his trousers became uncomfortably tight. She was certainly affecting him as well. Struggling to focus on the business at hand, he blinked when she tried to get his attention.

“Kakashi? Um, I think it would be better if you were behind me,” she instructed. “My hands need to be unimpeded to form the signs or we'll both die.” She arched an eyebrow at him.

Banishing the image her phrasing conjured in his mind, he remarked dryly, “Well, we can't have that now, can we?” Loosening his hold, the Copy Ninja swallowed a groan as she turned in his embrace, pressing her bottom against him. He could swear she wiggled slightly, just to torment him.

“Ready?”

“Let's just get on with this,” he rasped. _I have much more interesting things I want to be doing. To you._

She must have caught the errant thought because she paused, relaxing in his arms momentarily. Then, drawing a deep breath, she dove forward, dragging them both into the cold, rushing river. Kakashi's thoughts sharpened to keeping his head above water, while maintaining the grip of his clasped hands around the kunoichi's waist. The fast-moving current swiftly carried them to the edge of the cliff. Inhaling a huge lungful of air, the Copy Ninja's left eye opened, activating the Sharingan. Then gravity took control and they were falling.

Concentrating on Soriya's hands running through the succession of seals, Kakashi's grip tightened almost painfully as the Water Slowing jutsu took hold around them. Mentally, he counted off twenty-five seconds, before the light vanished abruptly as they plunged into the river basin. Although it was deep, the Copy Ninja's feet touched bottom. Bending his knees, he pushed upward immediately, trying to clear the base of the falls. Soriya's voice sounded in his mind.

_Let go._

He released her and she drifted to his side, easily pacing him as they kicked their way to the surface.

Popping out of the water, she let out a whoop. “That was fantastic! I knew it would work!” she exclaimed, eyes bright.

Kakashi smiled at her enthusiasm. “It does seem to work quite well,” he agreed. “The hand seals are simple enough. The trick lies in maintaining one's concentration while falling, I would guess.”

“Huh.” A teasing look crossed her face as she treaded water. “And here I thought it was my superior ninjutsu skill.”

He snorted in response, then had to splash backwards as Soriya discreetly signed a one-handed jutsu, swamping him with a sudden wave. Hooting with laughter, she turned for shore, arms and legs pumping furiously.

Wiping water from his face, the Copy Ninja quickly pursued, swimming after her in smooth, even strokes. Soriya was a strong swimmer and had a head start, but he had a longer reach. Just as she was a body's length from the grassy bank, Kakashi's hand closed around her ankle. The sudden halt of forward motion caused the kunoichi's head to submerge as he got his other hand on her knee, yanking her backwards. She rolled over, coughs interspersed with giggling as she half-heartedly struggled in his grasp.

“Think that's funny, do you?” He hauled her to him. She was laughing and coughing so violently, she could only hang weakly in his arms, ponytail trailing in the water.

“The look on your face...” she gasped, breaking out in peals of choking laughter once more.

Amused, Kakashi tucked her against his side as he pushed forward to shore. He supposed he should get her out of the water before she drowned. She was still giggling when he dragged them both up onto the gently sloped bank. He flopped down beside her still-quaking form while she tried to stifle her mirth.

“Sorry,” she offered insincerely, luminous eyes shining. “I couldn't resist, and you just look so surprised.” A wide grin split her face and the transitory dimple appeared. He thought she might burst into laughter all over again. Forestalling her, the Copy Ninja rolled, pinning her under the length of his body. Bracing hands on either side of the redhead's shoulders, he stared down at her. Startled gray eyes flew to his face.

“It's not that I don't love the sound of your laughter, because I do,” he began huskily. He watched her wide-eyed gaze drop to his mouth, lips parting in anticipation. He lowered his face slowly. “But right now, what I really want to hear is you crying out for me as I bring you.”

Kakashi felt a surge of purely male satisfaction as she shivered beneath him, eyes darkening at his bold words. Closing the last of the distance between them, he kissed her thoroughly, cradling her face in his hands. Absorbed in the feel and taste of her, he plundered her mouth relentlessly, until the need to breathe intruded. Pulling back, he perused her kiss-swollen lips and closed eyes. Her breasts heaved against his chest. He noticed his own breathing was none too steady.

Nudging her legs apart, Kakashi settled between them, eyes raking over her bikini-clad form. Trailing his right hand down a pale shoulder to her breast, his thumb brushed lightly over the nipple pressing against the thin black covering. Soriya squirmed underneath him as goosebumps danced along her flesh.

“Kakashi...” she sighed, arching into his hand in an attempt to elicit a firmer touch.

“Patience,” he told her, lips nipping at the underside of her jaw. “Let me warm you up first.” Kissing down the slender throat, he let his teeth drag lightly against her skin. The water had been cool and he could tell she liked the heat of his mouth on her flesh. Running his tongue around the scooped border of her swim top, he focused on the zipper. Taking the flat, metal pull between his teeth, he tossed her a devilish look as he slowly tugged it downward, revealing wet, ivory skin an inch at a time. Soriya watched through slitted eyes as the catch at the bottom came undone.

The wet material clung to her, so Kakashi teasingly peeled back the fabric exposing a pert left breast. The nipple stood at attention and he delicately puffed warm breath against the rosy tip. Soriya's eyes closed at the sensation and he felt her inhale a deep breath. She released it in a rush a moment later as his mouth closed on her. Sucking and rolling the firm flesh against his tongue and teeth, he bit down lightly, drawing a moan from her throat.

The kunoichi's hands tangled in wet, silver hair to hold him in place. Freeing her other breast from confinement, Kakashi fondled it lovingly before sliding his fingers up her forearms to capture her wrists. Deftly unwinding the hands from his hair, he laced his fingers with her own. Leaning forward, he placed them beside her head. She wriggled, pressing upward against him in excitement. He was about to kiss her again when his attention was caught by bruises on the flesh of her upper arms.

Soriya, sensing his hesitation, followed the direction of his gaze. “'S okay,” she murmured. “One could say you were given cause.”

“That's no excuse for hurting you.” Grudgingly, Kakashi confessed, “My control is not what it should be where you're concerned.” He kissed the finger-shaped imprints on the inner skin of her right arm, laving the bruised flesh with his tongue.

Soriya commented idly, “Is this a good time to tell you I've more of your finger marks on my hips from yesterday?”

Kakashi pulled back to look at her. “Truly? Hmm... There is definitely something about you that plays havoc with my self-control.” Shifting his attention to her left arm, he tended to the purple imprints there.

“Don't worry,” Soriya demurred, voice low and throaty. “I liked it.”

“Yes, well...” he trailed off, mouth traveling down her body, stopping to suckle the breast neglected earlier. “You'll forgive me...” he kissed along the line of her lowest rib, licking down the flat stomach to her belly button, “if I insist on assessing the damage personally.”

Strong hands closed around her hips, fingers curling under the waistband of the boy-short bikini bottoms. Leaning back on his haunches, he tugged the material down under her hipbones. Carefully, he spread his fingers over the faint purple marks marring the ivory flesh.

“I don't even remember doing this,” he admitted sheepishly.

“You _were_ fairly distracted,” she looked at him with heat in her gaze, “but then again, so was I.”

Kakashi stared at her wanton expression. Suddenly, he yearned to do anything to keep that look on her face. Smiling lazily, he pulled the swim bottoms slowly down her thighs. The suit caught briefly on her kunai sheath, and she obligingly raised her leg so he could ease the material down over her foot. Wrapping his fingers around her ankle, he pressed a kiss to the inner skin there, lips smoothing a path back up her calf to the inside of her knee. He left the fabric dangling on her other ankle, engaged in bathing the back of her knee with his tongue.

Inhaling through parted lips, Soriya's stomach tightened. Honeysuckle fragrance and that secret, musky scent that was uniquely her own rose in the air, surrounding them. Kakashi inhaled deeply, attention captured by the small triangle of reddish hair at the apex of her legs. He swallowed, desire pulsing in his veins. Sliding hands slowly up her thighs, he mouthed the skin over her femoral artery, applying teeth and tongue alternately. She watched him from beneath lowered lashes, and his Sharingan picked up the increased pounding of the pulse at the base of her throat.

“You know,” he mused, voice like velvet, “there _is_ something I'm curious about.”

“W-what's that?”

His mouth curved upwards in a sensual smile at her breathy stutter. “I wonder,” he purred, “if you taste as good as you smell?”

He chuckled low in his throat as her lips rounded into an “o”. Kissing down the inside of her thigh, he settled himself between her legs. The kunoichi rose up on her elbows to see him, breath quickening. Kakashi gave her a wicked smile, exhaling lightly against sensitive flesh. She swallowed audibly as he draped his left arm across her lower belly, pushing her leg down to the side. Skillful fingers teased the moist red curls, while his other hand skimmed over the soft skin of her left thigh. His fingers settled against her knee, urging her to open to him.

Holding her wide-eyed gaze, he parted her delicately, leaning in to give a long, slow lick to feminine flesh. Involuntarily, her eyes closed, hips rocking forward into the press of his lips and tongue. Pleased with her response, he licked her again, drawing a whimper from the back of her throat. Stroking silken flesh slowly and deeply, he paused to murmur huskily against her, “Delectable,” before resuming his intimate caress.

He felt the tension rise in her body as she fell back, hands fisting in the soft grass. That she could lie trusting, splayed out under him, letting him pleasure her this way sent a rush of desire straight to his groin. Concentrating on the small nerve bundle that was quickly swelling under his attentive caresses, he drew it gently into his mouth. Swirling his tongue over the sensitive flesh, he had to steady himself as Soriya writhed under him, whimpers becoming moans.

He was drowning. Drowning in the scent and taste of her.

Yet it wasn't enough.

He wanted to hear and feel her come apart under him as his slow, deliberate touches pushed her over the edge. Withdrawing his right hand from its place on her knee, he slid first one finger, then a second, into her warmth. She cried out, hips thrusting against him frantically, uncontrollably. Hands flew to his hair, tugging him impossibly closer. Kakashi rubbed his tongue against her more insistently, long fingers stroking in and out of her body. She bucked as wildly as the pressure from his forearm would allow, inner muscles clamping down on him tightly.

Suddenly, she jerked, his name exploding from her lips in an ecstatic gasp. Giant, rippling quakes rocked her body, forcing a loud, keening cry from her throat. Kakashi rode out the storm while she spasmed around him, her fingers clenching and unclenching in his hair.

Eventually, she quieted, releasing him as her hands fell limply back to her sides. Giving a last, slow lick to quivering flesh, he kissed his way back up her trembling body, hand quickly undoing the fastenings of his trousers. He was so aroused, he could hardly stand it, straining against the fabric. He freed himself, not bothering to undress fully, the passion of her response driving him.

Sensing his need, Soriya lifted shaky hips to meet him. He plunged into her, too frenzied to be gentle. She accepted all of him, wrapping her arms and legs around him tightly, as if she never wanted to let him go.

Dropping to his elbows, he cupped her face in his hands. Gods, how he loved this woman! He couldn't get close enough. Leaning forward, he devoured her mouth, tongue plunging inside to mimic the rolling motions of his body. When the need to breathe forced him to pull away, he saw that her gray eyes were fully dilated.

She gasped suddenly, velvet warmth tightening as his passion flooded through her, igniting sensitive nerve endings. He groaned at the increased friction, pushing into her desperately. He was close, so close.

Wrapping his arms around her, his face dropped to the soft skin above her collarbone, drawing it into his mouth. She whimpered under him, voice a small cry against his ear. Suddenly, her chakra flared, enveloping them both in pulsating white light. Abruptly, the familiar tingling rush began, zinging like lightning down his length until it engulfed him whole.

The strength of the orgasm shocked him. With a strangled groan, he bit down on the flesh against his mouth. Soriya, riding the coat tails of his release, arched suddenly, wailing as lightning spilled over, shattering her into pieces all over again.

Panting harshly, Kakashi sank down against her, unable to speak as he gradually descended from the heights. Eventually, he summoned the strength to raise his head, staring at the dazed expression on his lover's face.

“What did you do?” he asked, awe threading his voice. He noticed her pupils were once again their normal size.

Soriya's lips curved into a satisfied smile. “Oh, just a little something I've been wanting to try. Tapping into strong emotions, like lust, has always been easy for me. But I've never tried projecting the sensations back. It worked quite well, don't you think?”

“Amazingly well,” he agreed, tracing a finger lightly over the teeth marks imprinted on her shoulder. “The sheer power of it caught me by surprise. I'm afraid I've marked you again.”

“Just add it to my collection,” she grinned. “If anyone notices, we can say it's from a wild animal.” She laughed at his look of chagrin. “But I think the clothing I brought will hide it well enough.”

Her stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. Kakashi chuckled as the kunoichi flushed in embarrassment.

“Let me clean up, then I'll fix us something to eat,” he offered, lifting himself from her. Sitting back, he unstrapped the kunai sheath from his right thigh. He wanted to take a quick bath before changing into dry clothing.

As he stripped, Soriya sat up, limbs suddenly trembling with exhaustion. She shrugged the remnants of her swimsuit off her shoulders and ankle, idly watching as Kakashi dove into the water. With shaking hands, she reached up, undoing the heavy ponytail at the crown of her head, easing the tension on her scalp.

Having washed away the evidence of their exertions, the Copy Ninja climbed out onto the bank. Going to his backpack, he rifled through it for a towel. Quickly drying himself, he donned a spare pair of trousers and the rest of his clothing. Replacing the headband over his left eye, he left the lower mask down around his neck for the moment. He glanced over at Soriya while he secured the damp kunai sheath to his thigh. Hunched under the red cloak of her hair, she sat nude on the edge of the bank.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” She shook herself slightly. “Just waiting for my arms to stop shaking so I can go for a quick dip.”

He smiled. “Yes, it's probably best if you take care of that yourself. If I help, we may never get dinner.”

Soriya chuckled softly. “Honestly, I doubt I could muster the energy. That last just about wiped me out.”

Scooting down to the shore's edge, she slid in carefully, letting the water take her weight. Floating languidly, long tresses drifting, Soriya raised her upturned face to the darkening sky. She hadn't realized just how drained and bone-weary she was. Wisely, she stayed close to the bank, wrapped in the cool water's soothing embrace.

She felt so very heavy.

Even the delicate skin of her eyelids seemed too great a weight to bear. Long lashes grazed pale cheeks. Suddenly, the Copy Ninja's voice broke in, startling her.

“Hey.” He walked to the water's edge. “Don't fall asleep in there. I didn't bring another change of clothes,” he joked. “What is it with you and water, anyway?”

Coughing, the kunoichi managed to croak out, “Yeah, yeah, I'm coming.”

Kakashi looked at her more carefully, not liking what he saw.

_Chakra-drain. She looks like she's freezing. The water's not that cold._

He waited until she touched shore, then went in search of his spare towel. He had to get her warm, before shock set in.

Soriya hoisted herself onto land gracelessly, slowly standing on unsteady legs. Kakashi got to her just as her knees buckled, saving her from tumbling backwards into the water or face-first into the grass.

“No walking for you,” he stated calmly, scooping the redhead up in his arms. It was a measure of her very great fatigue that she didn't even argue with him. That, in itself, worried him. He carried her to the small clearing at the top of the bank. Settling the kunoichi under the shelter of a large tree, Kakashi wrapped the towel around her, scrutinizing her weary face.

“I don't like this. You've been pushing yourself too hard, too soon. We should've waited an extra day before making this trip.”

“Didn't want to wait,” she mumbled stubbornly. “Something's going to happen. I can feel it. We've got to be ready.” Her head drooped, resting on bent knees, as she hugged her legs tightly to her body. If only she weren't so cold...

Moving around the clearing, the Copy Ninja started a small fire with the aid of some matches he'd packed. Though the temperature was comfortably warm now, he knew it would drop overnight. He needed to get some warmth into her before the chakra drain triggered hypothermia.

Heating fresh water in a small pot over the flame, he brewed a strong tea. Filling a metal cup with it, he added a healthy dose of amber liquid from a flask secreted in the bottom of his backpack. Crouching down in front of the unusually quiescent redhead, Kakashi wrapped her hands firmly around the warm vessel.

“Drink this,” he directed, noting how cold her fingers felt. He was alarmed to see her lips had a bluish tinge. Leaving her with the beverage, he moved to her backpack, rummaging through it for warmer clothing.

Hands shaking, Soriya lifted the cup to her lips, attempting a small swallow. The hot drink burned a fiery path down her throat and she choked in surprise. “What did you put in here?” she asked, eyes watering.

Kakashi winked mischievously. “Oh, just something to warm you up.” In a more exasperated tone, he asked, “Don't you have anything in here that actually covers you?”

“You didn't seem to mind earlier,” she pointed out. “It's early summer. I didn't pack for cold weather.” Sipping her drink more cautiously, she rolled the liquid around in her mouth before swallowing. The spiked tea was slightly spicy, tasting of orange blossoms and alcohol. But most importantly, it was hot. She sampled it again before declaring, “Mmm. Yummy.”

Kakashi dropped a bundle of clothing at her feet. He was pleased to see the color returning to her cheeks. “Finish that, then get dressed. You can wrap yourself in my blanket while I make dinner.”

She could tell he was slightly annoyed with her. He tended to be somewhat overprotective; it had been one of their most frequent quarrels when she was genin. He felt she took too many unnecessary risks. Ibiki-sensei had accused her of the same, and had tried to break the kunoichi of the habit through several grueling training exercises. Grudgingly, she conceded they might be right, though she'd be damned if she'd admit it out loud. She must be getting old.

_Huh. Washed up at twenty-four._

She hadn't thought she would feel so drained after a little water ninjutsu.

_Well, there was that last._

Her toes curled. Projecting onto someone was certainly more draining than merely absorbing from them.

_Ah, but it was definitely worth it._

She smiled.

Kakashi turned from checking the fire. “Something amusing?”

“Just thinking pleasant thoughts,” she replied easily. She wanted to ask him what he was making, but when she opened her mouth, a huge yawn emerged instead. He arched a silver brow at her. “Sorry,” she mumbled from behind her hand. “I'm really pretty beat.”

Setting the empty cup down beside her, she reached for the pile of clothing. Kakashi went back to his cooking, remarking, “You can sleep after we eat. I'll take the first watch. Not that I expect anything to happen here. This area is generally pretty quiet.”

“And since the 'new me' is making an effort to be more sensible when it comes to my health, I won't even argue with you,” she offered generously.

He snorted. Privately, he determined he'd let her sleep through the night. He was better-rested and could afford the loss of sleep. Opting to skip the argument he knew would result, the Copy Ninja merely nodded when Soriya insisted he wake her after a few hours of rest.

They ate the stew he prepared in companionable silence. He was relieved to see that she appeared less shaky and pale after eating. She also seemed warmer, even though the short black skirt and sleeveless top provided little defense against the cold. He noticed she kept her long-sleeved jacket wrapped tightly around herself, warding off the slight chill in the air.

After dinner, Kakashi offered to scout the surrounding terrain, discreetly allowing the kunoichi time and privacy to relieve herself. Walking back to the fire, Soriya slowly finger-combed heavy tresses. She tied them back in a low, loose ponytail, then spread her bedroll out under the shelter of the chestnut tree, placing Cat's Eye within easy reach. Plopping down onto the bedding, she massaged her temples, waiting for Kakashi's return. The warm glow of the fire was soothing, though she was careful not to stare directly into the flames. Still, her head drooped lower, as she fought a losing battle with fatigue.

“You look like you're about to doze off where you're sitting,” Kakashi observed mildly, approaching from the trees on the other side of camp. “It's all clear around here, so go ahead and get some rest.” Walking over to her, he crouched down, balancing lightly on the balls of his feet. “Sleep well.”

Cupping her face in his gloved palm, he leaned forward, kissing her softly. Soriya's eyes closed at the gentle press of his lips. When he pulled back, she asked, voice slightly throaty, “Where will you be?”

“Oh, up in that tree over there,” he waved vaguely at the large stand of trees across the clearing. “I've got a book, so I'm all set.”

“Hmm. A book, you say?” With amused curiosity, she inquired, “Dare I ask the title?”

Wordlessly, Kakashi pulled the novel from its pouch at his waist. He showed the kunoichi the cover, awaiting her reaction.

“Ah, yes. That's a good one. We should definitely try something like chapter nineteen, don't you think?” Tired gray eyes gleamed up at him wickedly. “Some other time, of course. When I have more energy.”

He flushed, mouth dropping open in surprise. “You—how did y—? Oh, never mind.” Kakashi shook his head. She was going to be the death of him, he was sure of it. Pulling his lower mask into place over his mouth and nose, the Copy Ninja stood, looking down at her.

“We'll continue this discussion later, I promise you. Now go to sleep.”

She chuckled softly, tucking herself into the bedroll as he leapt to his chosen tree. Lying on her side, head pillowed on her right arm, the kunoichi was asleep in moments.

From his perch, the elite jonin watched the lines of fatigue smooth themselves from her face. She really was beautiful, even when she slept. Glancing briefly around the immediate area with amplified senses, Kakashi propped his book open in his lap, angling it toward the light of the fire. Calling chakra to supplement his night vision, he turned the pages.

_Let's see...chapter nineteen..._

XXX

Soriya leaned against the porch railing, reveling in the glow of her adopted family's happiness. Yori and Izumi sat on the yard's bench swing situated under a flowering cherry, Yori's arm draped protectively around his wife's shoulders. The baby, Sumiko, gurgled contentedly, wrapped in her mother's embrace. Full, pink blossoms surrounded them, beautiful and delicate in the afternoon sunlight.

Soriya smiled, enjoying the peace and tranquility of the setting. A slight breeze picked up, rustling the branches of the tree and strands of her hair. Blossoms stirred, loosing colorful petals that drifted gently downward, surrounding the happy couple.

A feeling of unease crept over the kunoichi.

The flowers surrounding Yori, Izumi, and the baby fell faster, obscuring them in a virtual waterfall of pink. Yori's voice sounded from within the rose-colored shroud.

“Soriya, have you seen Iori? He was here just a moment ago.”

A sliver of dread chased its way down her spine. Soriya stood, anxiously scanning the area for any sign of her nephew. A wooden toy caught her eye. The wagon Yori had made for his son lay discarded at the edge of the forest, a wheel broken and cast aside. Hurrying over, the telepath pushed senses outward, desperately seeking any trace of the child.

A hint of a presence came from deep within the trees. Without hesitation, she plunged into the forest, racing madly toward the faint, unfamiliar signature. As she gained ground on the strange aura, she realized it was not entirely unfamiliar. She'd encountered it once before, in the western reaches behind her house.

Someone had been spying on her, after all.

Suddenly, she became aware of Iori's muted mental signature. Asleep or unconscious, she decided. With a renewed burst of speed, she tore through the trees, disregarding the branches that snagged her hair and clothing. Up ahead, a low rumble quickly escalated to a dull roar, drowning out the sound of the kunoichi's labored breathing.

She broke through the tree line, the source of the roar revealing itself. Ganji Falls stood before her in all its glorious fury, water crashing down hundreds of meters in a huge spray of white. Frantically, she moved upstream along the bank, searching for Iori. She prayed he had not fallen into the river.

Intent on tracking him, the kunoichi was startled by the appearance of a man on the shore. He looked oddly familiar, with dark, shoulder-length hair, graying at the temples. With a start, Soriya realized she recognized him, though he'd aged considerably from photos she'd seen. The strange aura emanated from this man. He stood perfectly still, a slight smile creasing his weathered face. Gray eyes, flickering with an eerie light, seemed to call to her. Without knowing why, she felt compelled to go to him. She took a tentative step forward. Suddenly, Kakashi appeared at the kunoichi's back.

“Soriya! No! Don't go with him!”

She hesitated, caught between the two men. Her throat felt tight, her feet rooted to the ground with indecision. She was afraid, but didn't know why. Swallowing past the dryness in her mouth, Soriya glanced from her uncle to the Copy Ninja.

“Come with me,” Akira Kanzin invited, in the same quiet, yet penetrating tone she'd gleaned from Ryuji's mind.

“No! Soriya!” Kakashi called out to her, desperation in his voice.

The wail of a child crested over the roar of the waterfall. The kunoichi's head whipped around to see Iori clasped tightly against her uncle's chest. For one awful moment, Soriya stood, frozen in place. Then the man, smiling apologetically, stepped backward with the child, dropping them both into the rushing flow of the river.

Horror-struck, Soriya reacted without thinking, diving head-first into the water. Kakashi grabbed for her, fingers just grazing the end of her ponytail, snagging a few strands of hair in passing. She heard him scream her name as the water closed over her head.

Kicking furiously, she surfaced midstream, the relentless current dragging her quickly toward the edge of the falls. Struggling to reach Iori, Soriya knew she was not going to get there in time. Desperately, her fingers flew through the water-slowing jutsu, casting it forward just as the kidnapper and his hostage reached the edge. Iori's terrified scream rang in her ears as his small body tumbled over the drop, clutched in the psych-nin's grasp. Panic ripped through her, pulling a scream from her throat...

Snapping awake, Soriya lurched upright, fist pressed to her chest. Panting heavily, she realized Kakashi's hands rested against her collarbones. Concern thickened his voice.

“Are you okay? You were dreaming again.”

She pushed back the bedroll, struggling to master her emotions. After a moment, Kakashi let his hands drop. She could still feel her heart pounding. She took a deep breath.

“Something's wrong.”

She looked up, willing him to understand the gravity of the situation. “We have to go back. Right now. To the village. Iori...” She paused again.

_Breathe._

“Something's happened.”

The Copy Ninja stared at her intently. Then, wasting no time in debate, he stood, moving efficiently about the camp, gathering their few belongings. Soriya stowed the bedroll in her pack, sparing a glance for the faint pink light gracing the eastern horizon. It was dawn, barely.

Hoisting the pack onto her back, the kunoichi slipped Cat's Eye over her left shoulder, then adjusted the belt at her waist. Turning to the elite jonin, she watched him kick earth over the dying embers of their fire. He met her gaze.

“We can probably make it back in two and a half hours if we push it. You up for it?”

She tossed her head, low ponytail snapping in the air. “Let's get going. We may already be too late.” She tried not to let fear creep into her voice, but he heard it anyway. He nodded.

She cast the translocation jutsu, fading out then reappearing on the south bank. She took off at a fast jog, weaving quickly through the dense forest. Kakashi followed a half-second later, loping after her in an easy, long-legged stride.

In moments, only the roar of the waterfall and the stillness of early morning remained.


	9. Chapter 9

The sun shone warmly as Soriya and Kakashi approached the outskirts of the Village Hidden in the Leaves. They'd made better time than expected, Soriya's fear driving driving her onward. She knew the masked shinobi wished she would slow her headlong flight. He was concerned for her well-being. Thankfully, he'd held his peace, not wanting to waste time in fruitless argument.

She grimaced. Likely, he knew she would not heed him anyway. The horror of the dream still lingered uneasily in her thoughts.

Veering westward around the Great Wall enclosing the village, Soriya navigated the shortest route to the Itasuki residence. The two jonin entered the forest of oak, beech, and chestnut trees surrounding the property. Back in familiar territory, the kunoichi breathed a sigh of relief. She broke into a flat-out run, sprinting silently through the woods.

Reckless, that.

She felt Kakashi drop back, letting her lead the way. It made sense: she was arguably more familiar with the terrain than he. She'd grown up here, after all.

Suddenly, the kunoichi jerked to a halt. She held up a hand.

The birds had fallen silent.

Stealing a glance at the Copy Ninja, she saw he'd already drawn a kunai. By unspoken agreement they separated, Kakashi disappearing into the treetops, while she advanced on foot.

Casting senses forward in a broad swath, Soriya tested the surroundings. No hostile presence threatened, though she detected the muted auras of two people up ahead. Wending her way quickly between the trees, the telepath stopped on the edge of a small clearing. Two black-clad bodies lay sprawled at the base of a large oak. A knot of fear clenched in Soriya's stomach.

These were the ANBU operatives stationed to conduct surveillance on the Itasukis.

_We're too late._

Cautiously, she approached the still forms. Crouching down, she removed the ceramic bird mask of the nearest agent, relieved to note he was breathing easily. She rested a palm against the unconscious man's forehead, then moved to check his companion. The dark-haired kunoichi under the cat mask appeared to be in a similar state. Soriya spoke aloud, knowing Kakashi would hear her.

“They're alive, but stunned. They tried to take my uncle into custody, but underestimated his power. They made the mistake of touching him. I saw it in their minds.”

The elite jonin dropped down from a nearby tree. “Can you revive them?”

Suddenly, both jonin whirled, weapons out and ready.

A trail of leaves drifted through the air, a third masked ninja appearing in their wake. Halting on the border of the clearing just as Soriya had done, the figure slowly lifted a hand to the pale rat mask, pushing it up. Out of the corner of her eye, Soriya caught the slight easing of Kakashi's posture. He sheathed his blade, acknowledging the newly arrived shinobi.

“Yuichigo.”

“Kakashi. Soriya.” The unmasked ANBU nodded. Without preamble, he approached and knelt beside the fallen operatives. “They missed the check-in fifteen minutes ago. Did you see anything?”

“No. We just arrived. But we know who did this,” Soriya offered hurriedly. “They're unconscious, but they'll be okay. Inform the Hokage. Ask her to send the medic-nin, Enya Ryusuki. She'll know why. We're going on ahead to Yori and Izumi's house.” A thought occurred to her and she asked, “How long since the previous check-in?”

“Two hours.”

“Too much time,” she muttered under her breath. _He could be anywhere by now._

“One more thing. Beware a man in his fifties with dark hair graying at the temples. He may be dressed in black. If you see him, don't engage him directly. He can stun with a touch.” She nodded toward the unconscious operatives. “Subdue him from a distance if you can, or track him and send someone for me.”

Yuichigo nodded, disappearing in a rustle of leaves. Soriya rose, turning a pale face to Kakashi. He nodded.

“Let's hurry.”

Plunging back into the trees, Soriya abandoned all caution, making a beeline for Yori's house. Kakashi followed, only slightly more restrained. She knew he was worried about her family, too.

_Please, please, just let them be safe._

Within moments, the house came into view. Silently, Soriya gestured the Copy Ninja should enter through the kitchen, while she circled the house. Halting under the master bedroom's open window, the telepath paused. She sensed no hostile presence within, but still moved cautiously, wary of Kanzin's cloaking ability.

Leaping lightly to the sill, she dropped down silently into the room. Yori and Izumi slept on, unaware of the intrusion. Quickly, she checked the small bassinet beside the bed. Swaddled in a pink blanket and fast asleep, Sumiko made soft, cooing noises as she breathed.

Not entirely relieved, the kunoichi crept stealthily down the hall. Even before she crossed the threshold to Iori's room, she knew it was empty. Ice settled in the pit of her stomach. Heart pounding, she approached the bed.

Iori's favorite toy, a stuffed brown puppy Izumi had made for him, lay discarded on the floor. Soriya stooped, picking it up with trembling fingers. Numbly, she stuffed the small toy into her jacket pocket.

Sitting in the middle of the bed where it could not be missed, was a scroll. Lifting it from the puppy-printed sheets, Soriya unrolled the parchment tube, quickly scanning the contents. The strokes forming the symbols were even and well-formed; a precise hand had written the message. The author did not mince words.

_Soriya,_

_I have information important to you. Come to me. You know where. The boy will not be harmed. Come alone._

_AK_

Hands holding the scroll shook. She felt light-headed.

_The dream..._

The corners of her mouth flattened into a grim line.

_It won't end that way! I won't let it!_

She turned as Kakashi entered the room at her back. He stopped short at her icy expression. Wordlessly, she handed him the parchment.

His eye traced the characters, then shot back up to Soriya's face. “Clearly, this is a trap. Will you spring it?”

“I will do that and more, to get Iori back.” Eyes the color of winter sky promised no warmth or mercy.

“Soriya—” Kakashi broke off uneasily, as Izumi padded down the hall, wearily rubbing tired eyes.

“Soriya? Kakashi? I heard voices. What's going on?” She stepped into the room, eyes fixing instantly on the empty bed. “Iori! Where is he?”

Soriya placed steadying hands on the woman's shoulders. “Izumi, listen. Iori is not here, but he should be fine for the moment. Please, go wake Yori, and I'll explain.”

“I'm here,” Yori yawned, running a hand through sleep-tussled auburn hair. He straightened at the look of panic on his wife's face. “What's wrong? Has something happened to Iori?” Fear sped his footsteps as he hurried down the hallway.

Soriya explained quickly, “Iori's been taken. By my uncle, Akira Kanzin.”

Yori stared at the kunoichi in confusion. “Taken? By your uncle? Soriya, what are you talking about? The man's been dead since before you were born.”

She inhaled a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I know it seems crazy, Yori, but Akira is alive. He's abducted Iori in order to force a meeting with me.” She handed him the note. He stared at it blankly.

“He's going to get more than he bargained for, I promise you. I swear—I will do _whatever_ it takes to get Iori back safely. I won't let him come to harm. Trust me. ANBU is on the way here, but Kakashi and I are going after Kanzin now.”

“Soriya,” Yori searched her face, “if this is true... If your uncle has been alive all this time... What does that mean? What's he been doing?” When she didn't answer, he pressed, “Do you think he had something to do with your parents' disappearance? Or those rogue ninja that killed my parents?”

Izumi gasped, brown eyes darting from the kunoichi to her husband and back. Soriya sighed. Yori was always quick to get to the heart of the matter. Unfortunately, she had no answers to give him, only speculation. None of which, if true, boded well for Iori. Squeezing his hand firmly, she responded as honestly as she could.

“I don't know, Yori. Right now, all I care about is getting Iori back. I need you to stay here and wait for ANBU. Will you do that for me? We've got to go.”

He looked as though he would argue, and she was momentarily afraid he'd insist on accompanying them. But a glance at his wife changed the expression on his face. He had other responsibilities, and he surely realized he'd only slow them down. Yori had always been sensible.

He nodded grimly, resting a hand on Soriya's shoulder. “Good luck, and be careful.” He stepped back, wrapping an arm around his wife.

Hope warred with fear in Izumi's brown eyes as she clung to him, hand fisting in his sleeping robe. Bravely, she offered, “Yes, be careful, both of you. And bring Iori back safely.” Her voice broke slightly on the last sentence.

Soriya touched her friend's cheek. No words came to the kunoichi, though the determination in her gray eyes spoke volumes. Turning quickly for Iori's open window, she leapt gracefully to the sill, dropping to the ground below. Immediately, she took off running. She did not look back.

Kakashi nodded gravely at the frightened couple, then hastily followed the kunoichi out the window. Sprinting to catch up with her, he marked the direction. They were headed due west, away from the village.

“Where are we going?”

Without slowing the pace, Soriya replied, “West. A few kilometers behind my house. I sensed him there once before, although I didn't realize it was him at the time.”

“Do we have a plan?” he asked mildly.

Gritting her teeth, Soriya's eyes shaded to a flat, steel gray. The knot of fear in her belly was slowly turning to fury.

“I'll deal with my 'uncle' while you get Iori out of there.”

Kakashi was silent. She could feel his disapproval. When he finally spoke, he expressed his misgivings carefully.

“I don't like this. Kanzin's manipulated the situation very cleverly. He waited to act until we were away from the village. He took out two experienced ANBU, not to mention his past handling of Ryuji. Clearly, he's clever and dangerous, and we don't even know the full extent of his abilities. You shouldn't face him alone, even with your power. It's what he wants, and I'm not sure we should oblige him.”

She turned a flat gaze on the silver-haired shinobi. He restrained a wince at the utter lack of emotion in her eyes.

“Iori's safety is the _only_ thing that matters. I _will_ protect my family. Don't fight me on this. We don't have time.” Noting his grim expression, she relented slightly. “You don't have to worry; I have no intention of dying. I _did_ make a promise, after all.”

Kakashi snorted, but did not reply. She wondered if he was thinking of Kaito, comparing the situations. Fervently, the kunoichi hoped the confrontation with Kanzin would go as planned. She ignored the uncomfortable knotting in her stomach.

Once the two jonin passed by Soriya's house, the telepath called a halt, scanning westward with attuned senses. A strange emanation attracted her notice and she homed in on it, drawn like a moth to flame. Abruptly, the odd aura winked out, but she thought she could approximate the location. She turned quickly to Kakashi.

“We should separate. I'll approach directly, drawing his attention, while you search for Iori. I don't sense him from here, but if he's unconscious I'd have to be much closer.” She described their destination.

“Got it.” The Copy Ninja flashed into the trees and she quickly lost sight of him.

Inhaling a deep breath, the kunoichi took off, moving swiftly and silently. She allowed her chakra to rise, hoping it would act as a beacon to capture her uncle's undivided attention. Kakashi would give her path a wide berth to avoid discovery.

As she ran, Soriya cast telepathic senses forward, detecting nothing unusual. Just when she was beginning to think she'd imagined the strange aura, it flared briefly, then vanished once more.

_He's being careful, deliberately drawing my notice, but not broadcasting for too long._

She knew it would take ANBU some time to locate Kanzin. They'd probably assume he'd been hiding out in the Land of Wind. The closest border was many kilometers to the southwest. But Kanzin's current location was actually much nearer, in the northwesterly direction.

She ran onward, breath huffing in her throat. The dual mental and physical exertion was tiring, but Soriya kept it up. She could hang on long enough to get there. Of Kakashi, she detected no sign, but this was expected. Deliberately, she kept the net of chakra narrow and intermittent, in order to preserve strength. Also, to avoid invoking undue interest in the peripheral surroundings. She wasn't certain if the rogue psych-nin could detect such things, and she didn't want to reveal Kakashi's whereabouts inadvertently.

Gradually, the trees thinned out as the terrain became more rocky. Slowing to a walk, Soriya traversed a slight incline. To the southwest, the Land of the Wind was mostly a forbidding desert, strewn with canyons, sand, and unusual rock formations. The only green in the entire country seemed to be near the borders, where rivers, such as the Ganji, provided color to the drab landscape.

Examining the ground and sparsely scattered trees for traps, the kunoichi detected none. She doubted Kanzin wanted to kill her, but if kidnapping were his goal, he might wish to render her unconscious. Her inability to pick up any sign of Iori gnawed at her.

_If he's already dead..._

She gritted her teeth.

_Don't. It's not helpful._

Forcing down righteous fury, Soriya struggled for control. Akira Kanzin was, by all reports, highly intelligent; he would not be easily manipulated. She could not afford the rage right now. Perhaps later, once Iori was safe.

Cresting another small rise, the kunoichi was confronted by a wide plateau, ringed with scattered boulders. The huge gray rocks were enormous, some taller than a man.

_A perfect place for an ambush._

Just as she thought it, light flashed out of the corner of her right eye. Instantly, Soriya dove headfirst into a forward roll, plucking two shuriken from her belt pouch. A kunai bisected the space where she'd been standing. Jumping up, she flung the throwing stars simultaneously, zeroing in on a crevice between two boulders. She was rewarded by the sound of a man's cry, immediately cut short.

Slowly, a figure clad in gray leaned out, toppling forward onto the ground with a heavy thud. The man's neck twisted awkwardly, revealing the shuriken protruding from his left eye socket. The second missile had lodged in the base of his throat, just above his Adam's apple. Soriya didn't need to check him to know he was dead. The murderous aura from a moment ago was no more.

Idly, she examined the man's swarthy features. She didn't recognize him. Anger rose to the surface.

“Enough games. Show yourself!” she commanded.

A steady clapping sounded from behind the rock cluster. The odd aura flared in greeting, then vanished as Akira Kanzin stepped out from behind a boulder.

Fifty-ish, with a medium build and care-worn features, Soriya's uncle appeared eerily like the image she'd dreamed, right down to the black trousers and sleeveless shirt he wore. A dark metal bracelet bearing a stylized “K” on the band decorated his left wrist. It was his only ornamentation, as far as she could see.

“Congratulations, my dear. You are indeed jonin, with all the instincts of a trained killer. And yet, so lovely... The village must be thrilled to have you.”

Curtly, Soriya spoke. “Akira Kanzin. I've come as you asked. Where is Iori? You will take me to him now.”

“So formal, Soriya? Or should I call you Suki? We _are_ family, after all.”

Gritting her teeth at his use of the name she permitted only one man, she spat, “You're no family of mine, traitor! I didn't come here to banter with you. I'll ask again. Where is Iori?” Gray eyes dilated as she swept power outward in a wide arc. A sliver of unease crept down her spine. She felt no trace of the child.

_Something's not right. There should be some sign of him, even if he's unconscious._

Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

He waved a placating hand. “Now, now. There's no need for such a fearsome face. You received my message scroll. I told you: no harm will come to the child. You'll note that I did no permanent damage to the ANBU operatives guarding the house either. Believe me, I could have. But I've no wish to hurt anyone.”

She gave a short laugh, unamused. “Tell it to that guy,” she nodded toward the dead man. “You let me sense your aura intermittently, leading me here, while masking the sniper's presence until the very last moment. I don't understand your purpose. Did you really think someone with skills that pathetic could kill me? His murderous intent was easy to detect once I got close enough.”

Kanzin eyed Soriya with interest. “You sensed him through my cloaking ability? Indeed, you are powerful. As expected.” He waved a dismissive hand at the body sprawled in the dirt.

“Never mind him. He's merely a rogue assassin, and not even a very good one, at that. It was long past time for justice to find him, I assure you. He was intended as a test, nothing more.” He took a step toward the kunoichi. She watched him approach, gray eyes flat.

“And did I pass?” she asked, not really caring. She wanted to keep him occupied, in order to give Kakashi more time to scout the area.

Kanzin shook his head sorrowfully. “Actually, you failed. Leaf Village has clearly ruined you. It's obvious you're a killer. You have the instincts and you don't even hesitate.” He shook his head sadly. “Ah, if only my early attempts to rescue you hadn't ended in failure...” He sighed. “Whether you are merely a heartless tool—past all hope of redemption—remains to be seen.”

Soriya blinked. His words cut unexpectedly. Unwilling to let him see the wound he'd inflicted, she snapped, “What do you mean, 'attempts to rescue' me?” Angrily, she took a menacing step forward. She couldn't believe his nerve. “Are you talking about my parents' disappearance? And the murders of Mika and Yoshi Itasuki?”

_You better find Iori soon, Kakashi...before I lose it and kill this guy._

Although he could not be unaware of the deadly ire he was invoking, Kanzin replied offhandedly, “I admit, the deaths of the Itasukis were regrettable accidents. I relied too heavily on an old patient of mine, one Haruma Anji. Though I believe you knew him better as Yukio Ryuji.” He snorted. “An arrogant name for an arrogant man. I found it amusing that he wasn't nearly so arrogant each time I entered his mind.” The former psych-nin smiled darkly.

“He was easy to manipulate in the early days. He desperately wanted to escape the 'hospitality' of our village. I spent weeks with him, laying the psychological framework for certain conditioned responses.” Kanzin frowned in remembered anger. “It was only years later, when he believed himself safe in the Prince's court, that he found the courage to defy the compulsions I'd placed on him.” He looked at Soriya earnestly.

“No one was supposed to die. It was meant to be a simple abduction only.” He waited for the kunoichi to understand. She struggled to follow his abrupt changes in topic.

“You're saying Ryuji betrayed you?”

Kanzin's eyes smoldered. “He became so warped and paranoid that I couldn't get near him. The compulsions I laid were breaking down. Ryuji convinced himself that if I wanted you so badly, you must represent a danger to him. So he directed his ninja to kill rather than simply abduct you. I was beyond furious when I found out, and it was the last of my dealings with him.

“It's why I didn't try to contact you when you were right under his nose!” Kanzin laughed as if it were a great joke. “I couldn't risk his killing you outright. I have to say,” he added, smiling, “I wasn't sorry at all to hear you'd killed him. It was justice, of a kind, for his attempt on your life all those years ago. Fortunately, the people he sent bungled the job. I truly regret what happened to Mika and Yoshi. They were good friends at one time.” He sighed heavily.

“After that disaster, I didn't dare make another attempt. Not with ANBU constantly watching. So I waited, biding my time. Now and then, I made secretive trips to the village, just to see you. But I never stayed long. There was always the chance someone might recognize me, even though it'd been over ten years since my supposed death.” He shot her a withering look.

“I must say... I was gravely disappointed when you entered the Ninja Academy. That was the last thing I wanted for you. I gave serious thought to another abduction attempt, but between ANBU and that annoying jonin always coming around, I decided against it.” He cocked his head, glancing around the clearing.

“Oh, yes. That reminds me. Where is Kakashi? He would hardly leave you to come here on your own. You may as well tell him to come out. I promise, no harm will come to him.”

Still reeling from the revelation that the deaths of Yori's parents—her _family_ —were merely 'regrettable accidents,' Soriya stared at her uncle. Strangled by fury, nails digging into her palms, the redhead's ponytail swayed in silent warning. The air surrounding her rippled, causing scattered stones and debris to vibrate ominously. She could barely think past her rage.

_You—how dare you!_

Snarling incoherently, she took a menacing step toward him. A droll voice cut in, startling her.

“Why, how reassuring.”

The Copy Ninja crouched, perched on the tallest boulder off to Soriya's left. With chagrin, she realized she hadn't even felt his approach. She wondered how long he'd been listening.

_Get ahold of yourself!_

With visible effort, she leashed her chakra, turning to him anxiously. He answered the question before it left her lips.

“Iori's not here. I've checked all around the area. There's no sign of him or other ninja in hiding. Except for your dead one, of course.” He flicked a glance at the dead man on the ground.

Furiously rounding on her uncle, Soriya's voice cracked like a whip. “Enough! You leave me no choice.”

The kunoichi _moved._

Flashing across the ten meters that separated them, she gripped Kanzin's throat, slamming him into the large rock behind him. He choked out, “I wouldn't—!”

She didn't give him a chance to say what he wouldn't do.

Dilated gray orbs bored into eyes that were markedly similar. Her ponytail thrashed wildly as she thrust power directly into his mind. White chakra sank into a sea of murky images, most of which were mind-numbingly awful and horrifically graphic in detail.

Murder. War. Torture. Rape.

All were depicted in a never-ending stream of violence. Worse, though, were the emotions accompanying them: bloodlust, hatred, fear. A love of power twined with the joy of inflicting pain. They roiled and seethed like snakes, tangled within the man's damaged psyche.

Swallowed by the morass of horror, Soriya gasped. Oddly, the sheer volume of images and emotions protected her somewhat. She couldn't possibly absorb it all. Jaw clenched against nausea, the telepath ruthlessly forged ahead, concentrating on searching for Iori. Darkness faltered momentarily in the face of her strength, and Soriya glimpsed the image of a modest cottage set within an apple orchard.

_There!_

Before she could withdraw, the face of a beautiful, redheaded woman swam briefly out of the murk. With a start, Soriya realized she knew this sad-eyed lady.

“Mother?” she spoke aloud, confused.

Suddenly, Kanzin tensed under her hands. Angry tendrils of memory surged, pulling the kunoichi, struggling, back down into the mire. Emotions and images beat at her senses. She felt her uncle's desperation and fear as he tried to contain the ravenous cacophony. Amoeba-like, the Darkness clung to her, muddying, then subsuming the white glow of chakra.

Straining to disentangle herself, Soriya poured a strength born of fury into the fight. Scarlet hair, ripped free of its containment, thrashed the air violently. The Darkness welcomed her wrath, swallowing it whole. To her horror, the kunoichi realized she was slowly being overwhelmed. She gathered herself for one last surge, screaming in rage.

Abruptly, the enveloping pressure eased. Freed from the grip of the psych-nin's madness, Soriya hurled herself from him with a cry, landing heavily on hands and knees. She swayed unsteadily, head hanging, gasping, as she fought down nausea.

_Gods. Where did all that come from?_

Her worst fears were realized.

_He's not sane. He can't be. It's not possible._

Suddenly, she felt sick. Sick and afraid. For Iori, and less immediately, for herself.

Soriya recalled the latter days of her recovery in the Psych Department. Thankfully, she remembered little of the early days. A vague impression of screaming until her throat was raw, and the sour, burning taste of bile were all she retained from that time. She hadn't been able to purge the terrible recollections gleaned from Ryuji and his men quickly enough. There were few who would willingly touch her, knowing what it meant.

_Enya..._

But even for those who were willing to accept the nightmares, they could not take them all. Not and stay sane. She thought of the tortured images inside the psych-nin's mind.

_That could have been me._

And would have been, if not for Bathsheba and Ra. Without their intervention she would have lingered, trapped in a hellish morass of thoughts not her own. A sharp recollection rose in her: two pairs of slitted eyes, one gold, the other green, boring into her. The image was comforting in its clarity. Together, the felines had expunged the worst of the unwanted foreign memories, excising large swaths of dark debris from her psyche with precise mental touches.

Gradually, persistently, they drew her back from the depths of madness.

After awhile, Soriya had regained enough sanity to guide them in their delicate task. It was not something she could have done on her own. Unstable, her power was too raw, too forceful. It would have been like trying to perform brain surgery with a chainsaw.

She shuddered. Even with her wits and control fully restored, she knew such an exacting, precise task was well beyond her. With surprise, she felt a twinge of sadness. Her uncle had absorbed images and emotions over several years, from the most damaged of patients. She wondered how he'd ever survived it.

“Are you all right?” Kakashi's voice interrupted her thoughts. He knelt beside her in concern.

The kunoichi forced herself to look up at the man leaning against the rock. He was bent over, clutching his stomach and gasping for breath. “What did you do to him?”

Kakashi shrugged. “When you started screaming, I slugged him in the gut. It seemed to distract him long enough for you to get free. What happened?”

Soriya ignored the question. Bracing a palm against the Copy Ninja's shoulder, she levered herself up off the ground. “Thanks for the assist,” she told him, eyes fixed on Kanzin. “Take my advice, don't try your Sharingan trick on him. And don't let him touch you. His mind's a mess.” Under her breath she added softly, “Worse than mine ever was.”

Kakashi cast a sharp glance upwards, but the kunoichi moved past him toward the winded man, who had just managed to regain an upright posture. His gray eyes flickered with a riot of emotions she didn't know how to interpret. Fear? Relief? Anticipation? She saw them all, but could not divine the context. She stopped a body's length from him. She spoke softly, so softly.

“Tell me what happened to you.”

His eyes widened, and she thought he might refuse. A grimace twisted his lips.

“You really want to know?” His voice was bitter as he searched her face. She did not look away. “Then I'll tell you. _This_ is what comes of using one's powers. The so-called 'shinobi way.' You give and give, and still, they demand more. Until one day, they've used you up. Polluted and perverted the very gift that made you valuable to them in the first place!” he stopped, eyes slightly wild.

Soriya spoke carefully, unwilling to agitate him further. “Was what I saw images taken from your patients?”

Closing his eyes against the gentle tone, he answered mournfully, “I did try to warn you. Inside my mind is no place you want to be. You should thank Kakashi. My ability to seal off those dark memories is fragile, at best. I can't always contain them. To my everlasting sorrow.”

Gazing at him somberly, Soriya prodded, “Tell me...” A slight hesitation, then, “...Uncle.”

He stared at her a moment, eyes unreadable. Acknowledging the gesture, he slumped back against the rock wearily.

“They brought them to me,” he began quietly, voice tinged with remembered pain. “Shinobi. Traumatized in war, in the field, on assignments. Kids, most of them. Or, at least, younger than my twenty-two years. Younger than you...” He looked up as the realization struck him. Eyes lingered on her face.

“They were men and women damaged in the line of duty. Some broken beyond even my ability to heal,” he admitted with a shrug. “I speak not of mere physical injury, you understand. That was beyond my purview. I refer to mental trauma: post-traumatic stress disorder mostly, some the victims of torture, rape, or other abuse. Many had seen teammates or family killed. But there were also shinobi who simply could no longer cope with the realities of what they were asked to do. By the Hokage,” he spat the title venomously, waiting to see if a defensive reaction was forthcoming. It was not. Mollified, he elaborated.

“They had killed. In most cases, numerous times. Until the truth of the violence they committed against other human beings began to dawn on them. It was quite heart-wrenching to see, I assure you. Usually, I could ease their suffering by drawing off some of the more harmful emotions they were experiencing. Occasionally—particularly with patients I worked with for many months—I could perceive images as well.”

He closed his eyes. Opening them, he fixed Soriya with a penetrating gaze. Kakashi moved quietly to her side. Kanzin ignored him, focusing solely on the kunoichi.

“I cannot sift and read thoughts as you seem to be able to do. I can only experience what the patient desires to show me. Believe me when I tell you I count this a blessing. One of the very few in my wretched life. The reasons why should be obvious. If I'd entered their minds as deeply as you do, I never would've survived my first year treating patients, let alone _five_ years.” His voice rose. With visible effort, he restrained himself, eyes boring into Soriya earnestly.

“Don't misunderstand me; I wanted to help them. Those damaged warriors...broken weapons, all. Their pain cried out to me! How could I refuse them?”

“You couldn't,” Soriya said, feeling his anguish. “I know.”

He stared at her a moment, then nodded. “Perhaps you do, at that. You may be the only one who can.” He paused, gathering his thoughts.

“It was my duty—and my honor—to save as many of those brave shinobi as possible. For our village, of course. But also because I couldn't bear _not_ saving them.

“But, the more I saved, the more they sent. The fighting between ninja clans was the worst. The Ninja World Wars. We needed every shinobi back then. Even though I understood the necessity, it disturbed me greatly when men and women I'd struggled to heal voluntarily returned to the field. The amount of strain and effort they suffered— _I_ suffered—slowly putting their minds back together... It all seemed a great and terrible waste.

“I grappled with my conscience nightly. It was particularly bad when the nightmares were at their worst. But, during the day, I couldn't refuse them. I couldn't _not_ help.”

Soriya swallowed harshly at his obvious pain. It was so tangible she could almost taste it. Still, she was discomfited.

She should _hate_ this man. Wanted to hate him. His actions had brought about the deaths of those she loved. Instead, the kunoichi felt blind-sided by an empathy she hadn't expected, and didn't want to feel. She tried to summon the old rage as armor against him, but for once, it failed to rise to her aid. He noticed.

“It's not so easy, is it? To hate me? You want to, but you can't.” He nodded, voice gentle. “Given time and the right circumstances, you could _be_ me.”

Soriya looked down, unbound hair drifting forward to hide the uncertainty in her eyes. She wanted to return Iori to his parents. Had been prepared to do whatever it took to achieve that aim. Still was. But now...

The kunoichi felt torn. To her chagrin, she realized that, like her uncle, she couldn't turn away from pain. Not pain like this. Not when it was so close to her own. It bound her to him more tightly than any tie of blood.

Kakashi noted her confusion uneasily. He didn't like where this was going.

“Soriya...” he cautioned.

Raising a hand, she cut him short. Softly, she asked her uncle, “What changed for you?”

Kanzin sighed heavily, passing a hand over old, old eyes. “Many things. Sumao. Kurumi.” Soriya started at the mention of her parents' names.

“But the straw that broke the camel's back, as it were, was Yui.”

“Yui?”

“She was a jonin-level kunoichi, twenty years of age. Blond hair, blue eyes—a real beauty. She was a deep-cover operative, much like yourself. I will not go into the sordid details regarding her mission or subsequent discovery. Suffice it to say that what they did to her damaged more than just her body. It broke her mind. Utterly fragmented it. The worst case of multiple personality disorder anyone in the department had ever seen. It was all I could do just to catalog the various splinters of her psyche. Even the medications we had available to us at the time did little to help. They could stabilize her to a functional level for short periods only, and lost effectiveness with use.” The former psych-nin shook his head.

“I confess, she became something of a symbol for me. If only I could 'fix' her, put her back together, then everything I had sacrificed of myself in service to the village would somehow be vindicated. Madness, I know.” He laughed derisively, a harsh, ugly sound.

Soriya's fingers twitched. She squelched the reflexive urge to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. Kanzin did not seem to notice, although she thought Kakashi might have. His sharp eye searched her face briefly.

“Frankly, looking back, I doubt even I could have synthesized the shards of what was left of Yui into a normally functioning personality had I been given ten years with her. As it happened, I was not even given ten months. Events during the war became so dire that every shinobi was needed. Apparently, even a broken one,” he remarked bitterly.

Soriya risked a glance at Kakashi. He stood, listening intently, hands in pockets. His dark eye caught her own. She knew he was thinking the same thing as she: the only reason Command and the Hokage would have taken such a damaged shinobi from treatment was for use in a suicide mission.

It was rarely done, and never involuntarily. Such missions were hazardous enough without involving an unwilling participant. Yui's madness would not necessarily have been an impediment. There were some missions where sanity was not considered essential. Or even desired. As long as the operative could function—under medication if need be—for a short period of time.

Most likely, Yui had been given a choice: remain a “guest” of the Psych Department, with little to no hope of a normal life, or return to active duty for one last mission. Soriya wondered if the assignment had involved Yui's tormentors. In a similar situation, what would she have done—indeed, what _had_ she done for another chance at Ryuji?

She bowed her head. Of course, Yui had accepted the mission. She'd probably been eager to go.

Soriya prompted gently, “They offered her a choice, didn't they? One last mission. One she wouldn't refuse. And there was nothing you could do.”

“Nothing,” he admitted, voice oddly bland.

Soriya knew he was not unaffected. She sensed a deep and profound sorrow in him. And rage. Rage was definitely there. Suddenly, she knew this event had been the trigger that set him on his current path. She suppressed a shiver as he continued, voice matter-of-fact.

“The RU brought her body home in pieces. Coincidentally, we also received word of a massacre of one of the Land of Lightning's more prominent families. Every man, woman, and child slaughtered in a single night. The clan's entire line wiped out.”

Soriya paled, but forced herself to say, “That must have been hard for you, having worked so closely with Yui.”

Kanzin locked eyes with her. “You have no idea. Do you know what it's like, to get that close to someone, feel what they've felt, see what they've seen? To understand their every motivation? What drives them? And then to have to watch them _die?”_ His voice rose hysterically. “Well, do you?”

An expressionless mask settled over the kunoichi's face. Carefully, so carefully, she answered, “Actually, Uncle, I do. Perhaps even better than you.”

His eyebrows rose in disbelief, and she elaborated softly, “The difference is, I'm not generally in a position to save them. Quite often, my task is just the opposite.”

Expecting a strong reaction from the psych-nin, Soriya was surprised when Kakashi flinched. He knew her primary and secondary functions were those of spy and assassin. The same as his own, in fact, although the methods they employed were vastly different. They'd meticulously avoided discussing her previous missions—both for security reasons, and for the simple fact that it wasn't something she was exactly eager to talk about, anyway.

Perhaps hearing her speak openly of it here had surprised him. Still, she found his unexpected reaction stung. He must have glimpsed the sudden hurt in her eyes, because he lifted a hand to her shoulder in silent apology.

Kanzin stared at them, observing their body language. A cunning look crossed his face, unsettling her. She remembered he'd wanted her to come alone. For the first time, Soriya regretted the surge of emotions Kakashi's persistent presence brought to the fore. In many ways, things had been much simpler when all she could feel was a cold rage.

Kanzin spoke thoughtfully. “Ah, yes. I forget. How stupid of me. Indeed, you would know. Far better than I, in fact. Tell me, how are you coping with Emiko's death?”

Though she expected him to target her weaknesses, his accuracy still cut. She replied evenly, “I've come to terms with it as best I can. Ryuji is dead by my hand. And there's no bringing her back. I'll learn to live with it.” She did not speak of Kaito's death. She could not entirely absolve herself of the knowledge that he might be alive today had she made different choices. She'd find a way to live with that as well.

Kanzin mused, “Yes, I'd heard Prince Mujito died around the same time. An aneurysm, or some such. Your doing, I suppose?” He did not wait for her answer, asking curiously, “Tell me—because I could never get a sensible answer from Yui—do you enjoy acting as the Hokage's whore? Is it fulfilling?”

Kakashi's hand tightened fractionally on her shoulder, then dropped. He took a step toward the psych-nin.

“That's enough. Shut your mouth, or I'll shut it for you.”

Soriya held up a hand in front of the elite jonin. This was bad. She could see what Kanzin was doing. The words themselves were nothing to her. She'd heard them before. Usually from an enemy, or sullen shinobi she'd bested in some contest or other. They had long since lost their ability to wound. But clearly, they bothered the Copy Ninja.

The psych-nin could see it, too. He pressed his advantage, taunting, “So, Kakashi. How does it feel, knowing the one you love sleeps with other men, learning all their darkest secrets, then kills them? It must add a certain...spice...to your sex life, no?”

“No!” Soriya _moved._

The clang of metal rang loudly in the clearing. The kunoichi stood, braced in front of Kanzin, both hands gripping the hilt of her kunai. Arms shuddered with strain as she held back her lover's blade from the older man's neck.

"Kakashi, stop! He's baiting you, damn it!” she cried, stating what should've been obvious to the experienced jonin.

He looked past her, staring into Kanzin's gray orbs. A flicker of amusement sparked in their depths. The Copy Ninja's dark eye narrowed. Soriya felt the tension in his body as he struggled with his emotions. She pinpointed the exact moment control exerted itself.

Kakashi jumped back, carefully sheathing his blade. Though she could still sense his anger, it was laced with something else. Shame? Fear? The feelings faded as his cool demeanor slipped back into place. Tentatively, the kunoichi relaxed her stance. Turning slightly, she risked a sideways glance at her uncle.

“If you wish to live, keep a civil tongue in your head. If Kakashi _truly_ wanted you dead, I assure you, _I_ would not be able to stop him.”

She tried to catch the Copy Ninja's eye, but he steadfastly refused to look at her, focusing solely on the man standing behind her.

_Just great._

She knew Kanzin had deliberately goaded Kakashi into attacking, probably to force Soriya into defending him against the elite jonin. She ground her teeth in frustration. She did _not_ want to fight Kakashi, but she couldn't trust her uncle not to aggravate the situation further. It seemed she had only one option. Sighing, she turned to the masked shinobi.

“Kakashi. I want you to leave.”

He stared at her, incredulous. “You can't be serious.”

She walked toward him, sheathing her weapon slowly. Shielding him from Kanzin's view, she clasped his hands, holding them tightly. Before she could say a word, he spoke.

“Don't. Don't go with him, Soriya. I know what you're thinking. But you can't trust him.”

She started at the echo of words from her dream. Earnestly, she squeezed his hands. “I don't believe he means me harm. It'll be okay.”

He shook his head. “No. I can see that you pity him. It's written all over your face. You identify with him. He can see it, too, and he'll use it against you. I can't allow it.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

Her face hardened. “You can't _allow_ it?”

He tried again. “Soriya, please. This is about more than Iori. I can't just let you go with him.” Desperately, he thought of the warning the Hokage had given him. He had to make her see the danger she courted. Kanzin was a dead man. It was only a matter of time.

Her face softened as she looked at him. She whispered, “I know. I've always known.” His eye widened at her admission as she added, “I know you want to protect me, but I have to do this. Can you trust me?”

He shook his head. “I _do_ trust you. It's not that simple. It's him I don't trust,” he nodded toward Kanzin, who leaned against the rock, watching their interaction with interest.

“He's playing the victim, but I don't buy it. He freed a dangerous ninja, faked his own death, and tried to have you kidnapped. For what purpose? People _died_ because of his actions. If my squad had gotten there any later, both you and Yori would be dead. And what of your parents? What actually happened to them? He hasn't said, but I'm sure he knows. Why do you think that is?”

“Because it is Kanzin clan business, and therefore not your concern,” Akira Kanzin's voice cut in. “I will speak of it only to Soriya.”

“But what happens to Soriya _is_ my concern,” Kakashi countered. “I don't care to play your game.” He tried to move around the kunoichi, but she refused to loosen her hold on his hands. She hoped he would forgive her for what she was about to do.

Using the contact of his unprotected fingers against her palms, she slid into his mind. Too late, he tried to jerk away, but her power held him fast.

“Look at me.”

Slipping one hand from his, she cupped his masked cheek. He struggled valiantly against her, managing to croak out, “Don't...do this. Soriya!”

“Shhh,” she crooned, curling slender fingers around the edge of the mask, tugging it downwards. She leaned into him, accepting his frustrated fear and anger as penance. Kissing him slowly and deeply, she drew his lower lip into her mouth. He flinched in her embrace, dark eye flickering briefly. A few heartbeats later, she pulled away, dilated eyes never leaving him.

“I'm sorry it has to be this way,” she murmured, restoring his mask to its usual position. Holding the Copy Ninja's gaze, Soriya addressed the man behind her.

“I will give you the opportunity to tell me everything, Uncle. But let's be clear on one thing. If Iori has been harmed, pity or no, I'll kill you myself. Don't think our shared blood will save you. Even if I regret it later, you'll still be dead.”

“I understand. I promise, the boy is unharmed and will be returned to you. But first, I have something I want to show you. It's a few hours from here, though not too far. Are you certain he won't just follow?” Kanzin eyed the elite jonin warily.

Soriya stepped back, releasing the Copy Ninja's hand. “He won't,” she replied, more confidently than she felt.

Kakashi's expression was unreadable. His hands slowly tucked themselves back into trouser pockets.

Swallowing the urge to throw herself at him and beg forgiveness, she turned away, motioning to her uncle. “Let's go.”

The psych-nin hurried to her side. Moving quickly, he led the way around the boulders to the west, out of the clearing. Soriya dared a last glance back at the silver-haired shinobi. He had not moved from the spot where she'd left him. He did not turn to look at her as she disappeared past the rocks and out of sight.

XXX

Only when the sound of their footsteps had faded away, did the Copy Ninja permit his eye to fall on the path they had taken. He realized he had forced Soriya to this action. His loss of control was unforgivable.

He should not have attacked Kanzin. At least, not if he were not prepared to kill him at all costs.

He revised his opinion of the psych-nin's cleverness upwards. Insane or no, the man had not lost his reason completely. He'd seen the perfect opportunity to drive a wedge between the two jonin, and Kakashi—like some foolish genin—had let him do it. Mentally, he cursed himself. At the moment, he sympathized strongly with Kaito Oseki's dilemma.

Only two things prevented him from disregarding Soriya's wishes outright: the object gripped tightly in his fist, and the blood in his mouth where she'd bitten him. He'd done his best to warn her. Akira Kanzin's life was forfeit. Nothing could change that outcome. ANBU was surely searching for him by now.

_Soriya, don't give them a reason to kill you._

At least she was not planning to die. The Copy Ninja swallowed a mouthful of blood, considering. Casting a minor first aid jutsu, he healed the bite wound inside his lower lip. He supposed he could only wait for her to contact him, assuming she didn't get too far out of range. Hopefully, she'd be able to send a short message, even if he couldn't reply. He needed to be ready to move at a moment's notice. But first, he had another task.

Removing his left hand from his pocket, the Copy Ninja examined the small toy Soriya had surreptitiously thrust into his grasp. She hadn't had time for much more than that.

_Use this to track Iori. Save him. I'll contact you when I know our destination. I need to know what happened to my parents. Trust me. I love you._

She had also projected the image of a small, secluded cottage near an apple orchard. More importantly, the purplish peaks of Mt. Ryu towered in the background. Kakashi surmised the cottage lay about a half-hour to the north. Kanzin would not have had much time to kidnap Iori and hide him too far away.

If he hurried, Kakashi could probably rescue the child, then double back to track Soriya. Hopefully, she would have contacted him by then, but if not... He brought his other hand out from his trouser pocket. Sunlight glinted off several long strands of red hair clutched in his fist.

It was a good thing he was an excellent tracker. When he caught up to her, Soriya was going to have a lot of explaining to do.

XXX

The Fifth Hokage stood in the clearing, green jacket fluttering in the breeze. The two newly-revived ANBU sat on the ground a few feet away, under the care of Enya Ryusuki. Ibiki Morino, clad in gray and wearing a long, black overcoat, stood beside her. Expectantly, she looked at the medic-nin.

“It's as Soriya said, Hokage,” he affirmed. “No permanent harm done. Merely a chakra surge applied directly to the nerve center. Enough to stun, but not enough to kill. The headaches should be gone by tomorrow.”

She watched as the two operatives slowly gained their feet.

_Curious._

Kanzin had killed before, so why spare these? It made no sense. Unless he _wanted_ Soriya to find them? He had to know she could take the image of what had happened directly from their unconscious minds. Perhaps they'd been intended as some kind of message? Tsunade was keenly aware that none of the shinobi present, save Ibiki, even knew what Akira Kanzin looked like. And the passage of twenty-five years made Ibiki's ability to recognize him uncertain. She turned to ask the scarred shinobi a question when Yuichigo suddenly appeared in their midst.

He bowed to the Hokage, offering her a message scroll. “Hokage. Soriya left this for you. According to the Itasukis, she and Kakashi have gone after this Akira Kanzin. They appeared to be headed west, although they did not disclose their destination to the Itasukis.”

Tsunade took the scroll, unrolling it with a practiced hand. Squinting at the short note, her mouth firmed. Amber eyes met piercing black ones as she rolled the scroll back up.

“Ibiki, leave a squad with the Itasukis. Take Yuichigo, Enya, and one other you deem trustworthy. Go after them. I suspect they may be headed to the Land of Wind. Kanzin has taken Iori Itasuki hostage. Rescue the child if possible. Kanzin is to be terminated on sight.”

“Soriya may be with him by now,” Ibiki reminded her.

Tsunade closed her eyes. “Use your judgment. You understand the risks.”

“What of Kakashi?”

“If it comes to that, he likely won't be in a position to interfere.” Her voice was leaden. “Do what is necessary.”

Enya, observing them keenly, cut in, “I don't like what I'm hearing. If you're saying what I think you're saying... I'm sorry, Tsunade. I can't be party to it.”

The Hokage turned cold, cold eyes on him. “You _will_ go. Your task is as before. Do not concern yourself with Ibiki's orders.” She stared at him until the medic-nin dropped his eyes, shoulders slumping.

“Hokage.”

Sighing, she relented. “Enya. My hope is that it will not come to that. Kakashi is with her, after all. But your skills may be needed.” Looking them over one last time, she brought her right hand out in a horizontal slash. “Go.”

A moment later, the clearing contained only the Hokage and the two incapacitated ANBU. She turned to them. “Take yourselves off to the hospital. You are on forty-eight hour leave as of now,” she advised, not unkindly. “Do not speak of what has happened here.”

They bowed, both vanishing in the wake of translocation jutsu. Tsunade glanced around the forest once more. It was time to return to the Tower; she needed the scrying crystal. Briefly, she wondered if Kanzin's cloaking ability was strong enough to thwart the sphere's magic.

Sighing heavily, the Hokage's hands moved quickly through the seals. With a swirling gust of wind and leaves, she was gone.

XXX

“Where are we going?” Soriya asked, for what seemed like the umpteenth time. Thus far, her uncle had been disturbingly noncommittal, merely replying, “It's only a bit further.”

The telepath was mindful that increased distance lessened her chances of contacting Kakashi via the blood bond. She sincerely hoped he'd grasped the import of the image she'd projected. Even now, Iori could already be on his way home. At least, that was the mantra she kept repeating to herself after each of Akira's non-answers. She prepared herself for more of the same. This time he surprised her.

“There is a place near Ganji Falls. On the east bank. A small, abandoned house where I lived in secret, once I began to have difficulty with Anji. No doubt he would have killed me had he known. Fortunately, he rarely left the capital.” Akira smiled smugly.

“Did you know that after our supposed demise over the falls, he became deathly afraid of water? When we fell, he let go of me, thinking to save himself. The fool. I was barely able to preserve his life.”

“Perhaps you should've let him drown and spared us all future grief,” Soriya observed coolly.

He looked at her. “Perhaps. I knew Anji was no saint, although he was not quite so warped and twisted then. But I tell you truly—I am no killer. Though people may have died as a result of actions I've taken, it was never intentional.” He shook his head. “I'd seen enough of death through my work. I had no wish to see more of it.

“Besides, he'd been useful to me, and it was possible I'd need him in the future. So I saved him. I'm no murderer, after all.”

“Like me, you mean. That's what you want to say, isn't it, Uncle?” Gray eyes pierced him. “Let's not be coy about this. I get that you don't approve of my becoming shinobi. You've seen a lot of horrible things. I'm sorry for that, truly.

“But understand this: I am no indiscriminate killer. My targets are chosen carefully; they are not innocents. Ultimately, the work I do saves lives. A great many lives, in some cases,” she paused, then added, “Judge me if you will; I don't give a damn.”

“Well,” Akira conceded, “certainly, you have no particular reason to care what I think. But I believe you are your own harshest judge, every day. Or am I wrong?” Shrewdly, he caught the tightening of her jawline. She did not reply.

“No matter. We'll speak more of this later, when we arrive at our destination. There is something I want you to see.”

“You said that before,” Soriya reminded him, thinking furiously. The Ganji was several miles to the southwest of their current location. She would have to try Kakashi soon, or he'd be completely out of range, if he weren't already. She'd never tried to reach so far.

A distraction was needed.

Slowing the pace, she was just debating whether or not to pull the old “I have to go to the bathroom” trick, when her uncle stopped abruptly. She came to a halt beside him, curious.

“Problem?”

“Not really,” he replied, shrugging. “But I could use a break. It's tiring, keeping both of us cloaked while moving. And I have to go to the bathroom. What?” he asked, as she started, eyes narrowing slightly. “I'm not a machine, you know. I've been traveling all morning, just like you,” he added defensively.

Pushing aside uneasy suspicion, Soriya laughed ruefully, “For a moment there, I thought you read my mind. I could use a break, too.”

“All right. But don't try to leave any signs for ANBU or Kakashi. Not if you want to learn the truth about your parents.” A feverish gleam came into his eyes. “They want me dead, you know. The Hokage and ANBU. They're hunting me. They think I'm a killer. Hah! They don't know the truth...” he trailed off, staring at the kunoichi, “and you won't either, if they catch me.”

“I understand.” She managed to keep her tone of voice calm, even though what she really wanted to do was grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he confessed everything.

He sensed her frustration and smiled. “Patience, my dear. You've waited eighteen years for the answers to your questions. Another hour or two won't make much difference.” That being said, he retreated to a dense cluster of bushes.

Soriya listened a moment to make sure he was occupied. Concentrating, she called chakra, picturing Kakashi and the feel of his mental signature in her mind. She could still taste the coppery tang of his blood in her mouth. Striding toward a group of trees lining the other side of the path, her pupils began to dilate.

_Come on, Kakashi. Please be listening._


	10. Chapter 10

The Copy Ninja crouched on the tree branch silently, his tan-colored pug, Pakkun, perched beside him. They had a good view of the small cottage tucked neatly within the leafy foliage of an apple orchard. The ninja hound lifted its head, sniffing the sweet-scented air. Tracking Iori had been easy enough with the canine's help. The image Soriya lifted from Kanzin's mind had narrowed the search, allowing them to quickly pick up the trail. Ever cautious, Kakashi had scouted the sparsely populated area. There was no waiting ambush. All was peaceful.

Even the old woman inside the house seemed harmless, puttering about the slightly run-down home. Something bothered him about her slow, deliberate movements, although he couldn't put his finger on it. The cottage showed signs of age and wear, although the front porch was neat and clean. A potted sunflower rested cheerily beside the door in greeting. Lacy white curtains framed the open kitchen window. Slightly off-key humming could be heard from within. Kakashi pondered his next move.

“I think this calls for the direct approach, Pakkun. Here's your chance to be cute and cuddly.”

“It's what I live for,” the pug responded dryly, deep voice oddly out of place in such a small dog.

Dropping down from the tree limb, the masked shinobi casually strolled across the field, Pakkun trailing at his heels. Stepping up onto the porch, he rapped sharply on the door.

“Just a minute,” a voice replied.

He heard movement inside as the old woman shuffled across the room. The door was made of stout oak, and its solid construction muffled her voice slightly.

“Yes? Who is it, please?”

“Sorry to disturb you,” the Copy ninja replied easily. “I'm Kakashi Hatake. I'm looking for a little boy named Iori. Is he in your care?”

“Oh! Just a moment.”

She fiddled briefly with the lock, then opened the door, smiling kindly. “I'm Ayame Ito. It's nice to meet you, Hatake-san. Akira told me you'd be coming by for the child. I was happy to babysit. But who's that with you? I hear the sound of little paws. Have you a dog?”

Instantly, Kakashi realized the cause of the old woman's oddly deliberate movements. She was blind. A white film misted over the watery blue of her eyes. He was more disturbed by her greeting, however. His hand fisted in frustration.

Kanzin had played them perfectly.

Foreseeing Kakashi's unwanted presence, he'd planned accordingly, intending the two jonin should separate. It was likely the only reason for Iori's abduction. Soriya would have met with someone claiming to be her dead uncle without such added coercion. The psych-nin had deliberately taunted Kakashi, anticipating his reaction and Soriya's subsequent response. Iori's kidnapping forced Kakashi to accede to Soriya's wishes and rescue the child, rather than simply letting her go with Akira and then tailing them, which is what he would've done otherwise.

Uneasily, the masked shinobi wondered what else Kanzin had anticipated. Hiding his momentary discomfiture, he responded to the elderly woman's query.

“This is my companion, Pakkun. He's a pug and quite friendly.”

The old woman's sightless eyes traveled upwards following the sound of his voice. “You're a tall one, aren't you? Just like Akira. Well, you must come in, both of you. The child is asleep. He hasn't woken since Akira brought him.” She paused as a thought struck. “Your dog is...trained...is he not?”

“Pakkun is very well-trained. And housebroken,” he added, winking at the pug who appeared slightly disgruntled at this description. Stepping inside as Ayame held the door, Kakashi silently signed the “seek” command, then turned to his hostess as Pakkun scampered off to the back of the house.

“Where's he going?” Ayame asked curiously.

“Oh, he's just gone in search of Iori. Pakkun likes little boys. I ought to know; he's been with me for a very long time.”

“He's a ninja hound, yes?” Ayame smiled at Kakashi's slight intake of breath. “Don't be so surprised, Hatake-san. Akira told me all about you. You're the one they call the Copy Ninja. One of the Hokage's most trusted shinobi. Though, I admit, Akira neglected to mention you'd have a dog with you. I wish I'd known—I'd've had a bone for him. Ah, well.”

Kakashi was nonplussed. It was clear the old woman knew Akira, though he doubted she was aware of his true identity. It was a common enough name, after all. He debated with himself a moment. Time was a factor, but perhaps he could learn something here. Anything to give him a clue as to Kanzin's ultimate goal. He decided to fish for some answers.

Casually, he asked, “So tell me, Ito-san. How long have you known Akira?”

She smiled. “Oh, years and years. Must be about twenty now. Let's see... I was in my early fifties, and had just lost the last of my sight.” She gestured to her eyes, adding wistfully, “My husband had passed the year before, leaving me this house and the land. My son and his family live in town.” Her voice cooled slightly.

“They've urged me countless times to move in with them and give up the place. But I've a stubborn streak, I admit. That, and I just can't bring myself to leave. This old house holds so many happy memories. Some sad ones, too, I'll grant you. But at least they are _mine._ Besides, I'd miss the smell of the apples and the touch of my familiar things.

“I take boarders from time to time, in exchange for help keeping up the house and orchard. I get the occasional traveler, too. The neighbors help at harvest time and look out for me, so I do all right.” She paused, hand fluttering to her throat.

“Oh, but where are my manners? Please, sit down.” She waved vaguely in the direction of a well-used couch in the central room. A rocking chair flanked the stone fire place across from the couch.

As he moved to sit, the Copy Ninja scanned the layout of the house. The kitchen led directly off of the main room and was large enough to contain a small table with four chairs. A bathroom and what appeared to be Ayame's bedroom lined the back hallway. Just past her open door, he could see the stairwell where Pakkun had gone. The child must be upstairs in the attic.

“Would you like a cup of tea, Hatake-san?” Ayame offered politely.

“Thank you, but I'll have to pass,” Kakashi declined. “I can't stay long. But I would like to hear more about how you and Akira met, if you don't mind.”

“How we met? Well, that is a tale in itself,” she chuckled, settling herself comfortably in the rocking chair. “Would it sound too corny if I say 'it was a dark and stormy night?' Because it was. A deluge if I ever saw one. Not that these eyes could see anything by then...” She waved a hand idly at her face.

“But, there he was, soaking wet and shivering on my front porch. I couldn't let the poor man catch his death of cold, so I invited him in. He was very polite. Said he'd traveled a long way and had business in the village, but had gotten caught by the storm.” Blind eyes stared off into the distance, lost in memory.

“There was a...sadness...to him. I could hear it in his voice. I remember thinking, 'he must have been through something, the poor soul.' Well, I knew what that was like myself. So I insisted he stay, at least until the storm blew over.” Ayame sighed.

“In truth, I was lonely. I had not yet come to terms with the loss of both my husband and my sight, though the latter had been coming on gradually for years.” She paused. “It's funny, but somehow, I think Akira sensed my loneliness. He's always been very perceptive. He says people need a purpose, a reason to keep going. Maybe he understood intuitively that I was searching for mine. I did so want to be needed, you see.” She smiled fondly.

“Well, Akira stayed with me two days before the weather cleared sufficiently for travel. When he left for town, I thought I'd never hear from him again. But he surprised me a few days later. He'd brought fresh fish and vegetables from the village. I love fish, but I don't get it very often, living way out here. He also brought me a new hot water bottle for my feet.” Her weathered face creased in a smile. “I'd mentioned in passing that my old one had sprung a leak. It was very thoughtful of him, don't you think?”

“Very considerate,” Kakashi agreed mildly.

“After that, Akira asked if he could drop by from time to time. His business required a lot of traveling, he said. I imagine it must get pretty lonely.

“He comes once or twice a season usually, though his visits have been less frequent these last two years. I enjoy the company and he helps me around the place a bit, when he's not in town. I think Akira knows his visits give me something to look forward to. I'm sure I flatter myself, but I believe he finds his time here restful as well.” She considered a moment.

“Though, I do confess, I've never been able to discover the reason for the terrible grief I hear in his voice. It hangs over him like a cloud some days. Especially after he's been down to the village,” she mused.

“Once I asked him if he had a wife, a family, waiting for him. All he said was that he'd been in love once, but she'd died. He'd never really gotten over it, and had no inclination to marry. He refused to say anything more, so I let it go.”

Kakashi's brow furrowed. Could Akira have been referring to Yui? The shinobi hadn't gotten the impression that Kanzin's relationship with the kunoichi had been anything other than proper—a doctor-patient interaction. Still, Kanzin had become emotionally invested in her care. She'd become a symbol for him, her treatment a kind of crusade. The Copy Ninja frowned. There was something here, if only he could grasp it.

The sound of clicking toenails descending the stairs at the back of the house distracted him. Pakkun trotted into the room, hopping up onto the couch next to Kakashi. He glanced from Ayame to his master uncertainly. The Copy Ninja ruffled the soft brown ears lightly.

“It's okay, Pakkun. Report.”

The pug shook his head exuberantly, droopy ears flapping against the loose jowls. “The kid's asleep upstairs, like she said. I can't wake him. Some kind of genjutsu, probably.”

“Oh my!” Ayame started at the deep voice. “I had no idea ninja hounds could speak.”

“Well...let's just say Pakkun's a special case,” Kakashi admitted. “If you don't mind, I'm going to check on Iori.”

“Oh, certainly! I did think it strange he'd sleep so long, but then, children are often deep sleepers.”

Kakashi rose, following Pakkun out of the room to the stairwell. The pug quickly scampered up the steps, disappearing into the attic. The sound of creaking springs told Kakashi he'd jumped onto a mattress of some sort. Ascending the stairs more sedately, the Copy Ninja paused at the top, glancing curiously around the large space.

It clearly functioned as a guest bedroom, although one that didn't appear to see much use. The furnishings were sparse: two twin beds, a small bookshelf holding toys and children's books, and a small dresser lined one wall. The toys, books, and bedding showed little signs of wear. Kakashi wondered how often Ayame's grandchildren actually visited. A queen-sized bed and larger dresser stood against the opposite wall.

Quickly, the elite jonin crossed to the taller dresser and cast a trap-seeking jutsu. Finding none, he reached for the first drawer. There was no need to exercise care in rifling through the contents; Kanzin knew he was here, after all. He'd expect the masked shinobi to search his things. Still, the Copy Ninja was taken aback to find a scroll addressed to him and a photograph, lying right on top of the clothing in the first drawer.

The photo was old and yellowed, with slightly tattered edges. It sported several creases, as though it had been carried in a pocket. The picture showed an attractive red-haired woman hugging a little girl who was perched on a rope swing. The child also had red hair, though of a darker shade, tied up in pigtails. Both faces were smiling, seemingly unaware of the camera. The woman's eyes were the opaque silver of the Hyuga clan.

_Soriya's mother._

Suddenly uneasy, Kakashi turned his attention to the scroll, unrolling it hastily. His brow slanted downward in a frown as he read.

_Kakashi,_

_Please forgive my familiarity, but I have watched you with Soriya so often over the years, I feel as if I know you. It is obvious to me that you care for her deeply. Although, I must confess, I found your neglect of her in recent years vexing. However, as Soriya loves you and has chosen to forgive your lapse, I feel I can hardly do less. Especially as I must beg two favors from you._

The Copy Ninja's hands tightened on the scroll. The audacity of the man! Though Kanzin's presumption rankled, he stifled his annoyance and read on.

_As Soriya has long suspected, my brother and his wife are dead. I feel I should tell you their deaths were not my intention—although that is meaningless, as it is entirely my fault they died. Their graves lie on the east bank of Ganji Falls, under a weeping willow tree. There is a small cottage nearby. This is our destination._

_Forgive my subterfuge in sending you off on this fool's errand. I wished to speak to Soriya privately and I have little time. I know ANBU hunts me. Truth be told, I welcome an end to this hellish existence. If the darkness within me gains control, the harm it could inflict on innocents would be devastating. And I am tired of fighting._

Kakashi's brow rose. So, Kanzin was aware of the fate that awaited him. But why involve Soriya? Why now, after all this time? The next paragraph held the answers.

_But, before I die, I must tell Soriya the truth. About her parents, and her power. She needs to understand the inherent dangers of the Kekkei Genkai she possesses. It is, perhaps, the deadliest power Leaf Village has ever known._

_Weapons such as she are highly valued by those who wield them, but also greatly feared. It is for this reason I never wanted her to become shinobi. The days when bearers of such powers were slaughtered outright are not so far gone that it could not happen again. Besides that, the power itself is treacherous; Soriya has almost been destroyed by it once. She must exercise better care in how she allows herself to be used, for I am certain she cannot be persuaded to set aside her duty to the village. I would not see her corrupted and ruined, as I have been._

_Kakashi, I beg you: help her find a balance between duty and power. She cannot continue as she has in the past. It will slowly break her spirit and, eventually, her mind. This I know, firsthand._

_Soriya must learn new ways to wield her gift. Ways that are less damaging to her in the long run. You cannot rely solely on the current Hokage's wisdom in this, although as a healer, the Fifth is wiser than most. People in power use the tools they have available to them. It is the nature of those who rule._

_This brings me to the last boon I would have of you: do not let Soriya interfere with ANBU when they come to kill me. I will not ask you to do the deed yourself—she won't thank you for it and she'll need you, afterwards. She will try to save me, although she should not. There are some sins for which one cannot be forgiven._

_I can cloak our movements from ANBU for a time, but they will find us eventually. You must arrive before they do and convince Soriya—by force if necessary—to leave me to my fate._

Kakashi paused. He wondered why Kanzin felt so strongly that Soriya would risk her life for him. She knew—had known all along—that her uncle was doomed. There was only one end for traitors. Scanning the last few sentences, his eye widened. Apprehensively, he reread the words. Could Kanzin be lying?

_No. Not about this. Not if he truly intends to die..._

Kakashi recalled the look on Soriya's face when she'd stopped his blade earlier. The psych-nin was right: she would want to do something. To try. But if she killed the shinobi sent after Kanzin, Tsunade would have no choice. She'd be forced to order the kunoichi's death.

The Copy Ninja quickly rerolled the scroll, tucking it and the photo into a pocket. Speed was essential now. He moved to the bed where Iori slept, oblivious.

Pakkun nudged the child with his nose. “So, you gonna wake this kid up?”

“No. There's no time.” Bending down, Kakashi scooped Iori up, settling him against a shoulder. Turning for the stairs, he descended hastily, Pakkun bounding down the steps behind him. Ayame waited at the end of the hallway.

“Did you wake him?” she asked.

“No. I've decided to let him sleep until I get him home. Pakkun and I will be going now. Take care, Ito-san. We'll see ourselves out.”

Before she could reply, he cast the translocation jutsu, disappearing with Iori in a puff of smoke. Pakkun vanished a second later, the small popping sound marking his return to wherever ninja hounds waited for their masters' summons.

The old woman cocked her head at the sudden silence. “Well, I'll be... How strange.”

Shaking her head, she wandered slowly into the kitchen. A pot of tea sounded good right about now. She hoped Akira returned soon. She had many questions she wanted to ask him.

XXX

The silver-haired shinobi materialized suddenly in the Itasuki's seemingly vacant front yard. Before he could take a single step, he was confronted by two ANBU. He greeted them calmly.

“Yo.”

The shorter of the two operatives relaxed. From behind the pale horse mask, a woman's voice spoke. “Kakashi. I see you've recovered the child. Is he injured?”

The Copy Ninja shook his head in the negative. “No. Just under the influence of a sleep genjutsu. Here, take him. I can't linger.” He passed the child to the kunoichi, then reached into his pocket for the stuffed dog. “This belongs to him.” He held it out to her.

She took it, asking curiously, “Where's Soriya? Aren't you supposed to be with her?”

Kakashi tensed. “We had to separate,” he replied carefully, then asked, “Has the Hokage been here?”

“Yes, but only briefly. She sent Ibiki Morino out with a squad, dispatched another here, then returned to the Tower.”

“I see.” Kakashi stilled. A lead weight settled in his stomach.

_So. Tsunade's made her decision._

The female operative continued, unaware of the crushing impact of her news.

“Morino-san took Yuichigo with him. And that medic-nin, Enya Ryusuki. I think one other as well, although I'm not sure who. Takeo, perhaps.”

Kakashi inhaled a breath at the mention of Enya's name.

_Enya's with him. Tsunade hasn't given the final order, after all. She's left it up to Morino. If I can get to him first..._

Hope surged. There was still time. Thanking the kunoichi for the information, he prepared to translocate. Suddenly, he froze, hands poised awkwardly in front of him. A faint voice intruded in his mind.

_—kashi. It's Sori—._ The voice faded in and out. He concentrated fiercely, catching only fragments.

_Go...Ganji Fal...east bank..._

Closing his eye, the elite jonin strained to hear more, but the voice did not return. It had been so very far away. If he hadn't known it could only be Soriya, he would not have recognized her. His odd hesitation drew notice.

“Kakashi? You okay?”

“Uh, yeah. I just thought of something. I've gotta go. Tell Yori I'll stop by later.”

She nodded as he vanished as quickly as he'd come. She turned to her companion, who had neither moved nor spoken during the entire altercation. “Inform the Hokage of the situation, then return here. I'll get this little guy back to his parents and break the genjutsu.”

The second operative bowed, hands flickering before he, too, vanished. The horse-masked kunoichi gently shifted her precious burden as she walked to the house. Crooning softly in Iori's ear, she murmured, “I know two people who are going to be relieved to have you home again, child.”

XXX

The kunoichi stood silently, examining the exterior of the small house. Although, “house” might be too kind a description. “Shack” was more like it, she decided.

The ramshackle structure was in a definite state of disrepair. A sagging roof lacked several shingles, although a rudimentary patch job had been attempted. She bet it leaked horribly in the rain. The graying, wooden planks of the walls were in desperate need of a coat of varnish; the trim pieces sported peeling paint. The windows and front door seemed reasonably intact, though Soriya wouldn't have wanted to spend a winter here. She turned in disbelief to the man beside her.

“You mean to tell me you _lived_ here? For the last twenty _years?”_ She stared at him. “Why would you do that?”

“Why stay here, you mean? When I could easily go to some other country and start over? Leave my past behind?”

Soriya did not respond to the mild sarcasm in his tone. She merely nodded, awaiting his explanation.

“I considered it many times. Even left twice. But no matter where I went, I couldn't escape myself. We carry our pasts with us. Mine always pulled me back here. Out of guilt, perhaps. Or my cursed sense of duty. Family, certainly.” He turned solemn gray eyes on her.

“It could not have been easy for you when Sumao and Kurumi went missing. I've watched you over the years. I know the guilt you carry. Believe me when I tell you: it's not your fault. The blame lies solely with me.”

She closed her eyes.

“Stop it,” she snarled, voice low. “Don't act as if you know me. As if you understand my pain. It's offensive.” Gray eyes opened, flashing with anger. “You may be related to me by blood, _Uncle,”_ she granted him the title derisively, “but I don't know you. You weren't there the nights I cried myself to sleep. You were off 'playing dead.' So don't come to me now, years late, with your lame psychoanalysis.” She paused for breath.

His whole demeanor radiated sympathy. It only infuriated her.

“I didn't ask for your pity or your help. I don't want it. I've survived all these years without your so-called words of wisdom. You have nothing I need,” she concluded coldly.

He didn't flinch at the verbal assault. Shaking his head, he sighed, “Ah, my dear, if only that were true... I would have left you in peace and found my death some other way.”

She started in surprise.

He went on, “But, although you might lie to me now, you cannot lie to yourself. You want the truth. Desperately. It is why you are here, is it not? Your entire life, everything you've done, has been in pursuit of it. Why else choose the path of shinobi?”

“To protect those I love.”

“Perhaps that was a part of it,” he acknowledged, “but not the whole. You wanted to discover the truth behind your parents' disappearance and your foster parents' murders. For that, you needed power. Power to find the answers, and, once you had them, the power to take action. To seek vengeance. It is so obviously what drives you. One doesn't require my 'lame psychoanalysis' to figure it out. A fool could see it. Certainly those as clever as Kakashi and the Hokage could. It makes you easy to manipulate.”

“Kakashi wouldn't do that!” she snapped, suddenly furious.

Akira shrugged mildly. “No. Perhaps not. But the Hokage would, and has. You are a valuable tool, Soriya. A weapon which can be turned against both friends and enemies alike. The Fifth Hokage has been canny in her use of you—she knows well the value of the hidden weapon. Should the power of your Kekkei Genkai become common knowledge, other nations would stop at nothing to kill or capture you.”

“I'm well aware of the dangers of wielding this type of power. Do you think I'm a fool?” Soriya snapped. “You tell me nothing I don't already know.”

“Yet you allow such a dark desire for revenge to steer your course. It has almost broken you once, has it not?” He walked toward the house, tossing over his shoulder, “I know very well what a two month stay in the Psych Department means. Particularly for someone with gifts such as ours.”

He stopped before the weathered front door. Placing a hand on the knob, he turned back to the kunoichi. “My intention is to free you from this need for vengeance. Today. Using the most potent weapon at my disposal—the truth.” He turned the knob, pushing the door inward. From where she stood, Soriya could make out little of the gloomy interior.

“So tell me, my dear, would you finally be free? Consider it my last gift to you. I want only for you to be at peace.”

Soriya took a step toward the house. Stopped. Suddenly, Ibiki-sensei's words echoed in her mind. She shot the older man a wry glance.

“That's hardly comforting, Uncle. I have it on good authority that peace is only for the dead.”

Caught by surprise, the psych-nin uttered a short laugh. He waved the kunoichi through the entrance, following slowly after her. Shaking his head in dark amusement, he replied, “Even so, my dear. Even so.”

XXX

Tsunade carefully observed the progress of the silver-haired shinobi as he traveled westward. She had long since abandoned attempts to locate Soriya within the scrying crystal. No matter how hard she forced her concentration upon it, the sphere remained opaque. The Hokage knew this meant the kunoichi was either dead or cloaked from the orb's magical sight. Knowing Soriya, Tsunade favored the latter hypothesis, although it was also possible the redhead was merely out of range. Still, she should have been able to glean a general direction, at least. The effort of trying to coax an image—any image—from the sphere had given the blonde a splitting headache.

Doggedly, she'd switched targets, first observing Ibiki's squad, then shifting focus to Kakashi. She knew, from the operatives stationed at the Itasuki residence, that he was not currently with Soriya, despite her orders. From what she could discern from the passing terrain, he seemed to be trailing Morino's group. Though neither she nor Ibiki had spoken of it directly, she knew Kakashi was cognizant of the scarred shinobi's orders. Yet, instead of going to Soriya straight-away, he seemed to be trying to intercept Ibiki's squad.

The Hokage frowned. She did not believe for a moment that he intended betrayal.

_He knows something. Something he thinks will stay Ibiki's hand._

“Just what are you up to, Kakashi?” she muttered grumpily.

Morino's group was still a fair distance ahead, but the Copy Ninja was gradually closing the gap. Fervently, Tsunade found herself hoping that just this once, the masked shinobi would manage to get there in time.

XXX

The black-clad ANBU operative crouched, ear to the ground. After listening intently for a minute or two, he sat back on his haunches, soft voice echoing oddly through the pale ceramic tiger mask as he addressed Ibiki Morino.

“Our tracker has altered his route. Instead of tailing us directly, he's angled his approach. He may be intending to intercept and ambush us.”

“Could it be a messenger from the Hokage?” Enya asked.

The tiger-masked ANBU snorted. Morino chose to answer the medic-nin more graciously.

“Not likely. I have my suspicions about who our mysterious tracker is—although why he's here and not with Soriya...” he broke off.

“She probably told him to get lost,” the voice behind the tiger mask remarked snidely. “She's always been a pain in the ass like that, going her own way all of the time.”

“That's enough, Takeo,” Morino cut him off. “Keep your opinions to yourself, unless you have something constructive to add.”

Undaunted, the operative rose to his feet. “Shall I go greet our uninvited guest?”

Rubbing a gloved hand across his jaw, the scarred shinobi considered. Kakashi surely knew Ibiki led the pursuit. Why wasn't he with Soriya? If Morino knew that, he'd have a better idea of whether the Copy Ninja intended to help or hinder them. Grimacing slightly, he made his decision.

“No. We'll continue on as before. Monitor Kakashi's approximate location. I'm guessing he knows Soriya's whereabouts and plans to intercept us before we make contact. He's further north than I would have expected. We'll adjust our course accordingly.

“Takeo. Yuichigo. Once we locate Akira Kanzin, I want you to take him out. Enya, you'll stay out of the fighting. You're here for one reason and one reason only. I'll deal with Kakashi when the time comes.” _And he'd better have a good explanation for whatever the hell he thinks he's doing._

Yuichigo posed the question that plagued Morino's thoughts.

“What about Soriya? If she's not with Kakashi, she must be with Kanzin. He _is_ her uncle. Do you think she'll try to stop us?”

“Leave Soriya to me,” Takeo broke in. “I'll keep her busy while you eliminate the target. It's been a long time since she and I have sparred. I have to admit, I almost hope she tries to interfere.”

Morino frowned. “Just see that you don't get carried away, Takeo. Soriya is _not_ our target. Be wary of approaching her too violently. She might misunderstand and react accordingly. Your rivalry notwithstanding, it would vex me greatly if either of you is killed. Are we clear on that?” The scarred shinobi's black eyes pierced the tiger-masked ninja.

“Crystal.” The smooth reply could not quite disguise the eagerness in his voice.

Ibiki grunted, not entirely reassured by the man's response. He hoped he would not have cause to regret bringing Takeo.

Enya looked from Takeo to Morino, then at the rat-masked Yuichigo, who shrugged. The medic-nin shook his head. He knew why Morino thought it prudent to have Takeo along—the arrogant, brooding shinobi was one of the select few who knew of Soriya's unusual abilities. During her training, it had been Takeo who sparred with her. Their battles were brutal and often bloody. Morino had insisted Enya always be present for their hand-to-hand sessions; he had never left unneeded. Usually by both combatants. If anyone could cope with Soriya's powers, it was Takeo.

Still, Enya wished the man were more objective, with less of an axe to grind. Something about the kunoichi had always rubbed Takeo the wrong way. Pushing concern aside, the medic-nin followed as the group leapt to the trees, speeding onward through the forest once more.

XXX

Soriya stood beside the psych-nin, looking down at the framed photos displayed on the small side table. The sun of early morning had given way to clouds by midday, leaving the interior of the house shadowed and gloomy. Indoors, the air felt heavy, as if weighted down by sorrow. It depressed her.

The silence was broken by the sudden hiss of a match strike. Carefully, Kanzin touched a long match to the wick of a stubby white candle. The slight bloom of fire did little to dispel the room's oppressive stillness. Gradually, a sweet smell rose around them.

The kunoichi examined the photos carefully. There were four in total, but her eyes kept returning to one in particular. A young, red-haired woman held the arm of a tall, slender man with short, dark hair. The woman was smiling, but Soriya thought the opaque silver eyes held a hint of sadness. The man seemed unaware of it, warm brown eyes lingering on her upturned face. Without knowing what she did, Soriya's fingers reached out to trace their images.

“That was taken at the announcement of their engagement,” Kanzin explained. “They appear to be very much in love, do they not?”

Embarrassed for some reason, the kunoichi pulled her hand back to her side. She heard the bitterness in his voice and wondered at it. Tentatively, she offered, “She seems...I don't know...sad, somehow. Even though she smiles.”

He grunted in response, but said no more.

Soriya's throat tightened. She felt a sudden, dull ache in her chest. Her parents...they'd disappeared when she was so young. To her shame, Soriya found there were often times when she could not clearly recall their faces. Even the sounds of their voices had faded. Intellectually, she knew it was only natural. A simple failing of human memory. Still, each time it happened, she felt profoundly guilty.

Her memories of Yori's parents were far more concrete, but then, she'd been older. Unreservedly, the Itasukis had invited Soriya into their home when her parents had not returned from some unexpected trip. The Fourth Hokage had not even had to make the formal request.

Never had Soriya felt unwanted or unloved, a burden thrust upon them. They'd treated her as the daughter they'd never had. She and Yori, already friends, became as close as any blood siblings. He'd never resented her addition to the family and seemed to love having a “big sister.” But then, Yori had always been steady and gentle—much like the man he was today. Soriya had been beyond grateful for their simple acceptance of her into their lives.

Yoshi had once told her, “Family one chooses is just as precious as family one is granted by birth.” She had loved him—loved them—fiercely for that.

She sighed. More than anything else, it was her great grief and rage at Mika and Yoshi's deaths that had spurred her enrollment in the Ninja Academy. She never again wanted to be that helpless ten-year-old girl, trembling with fear, unable to protect the ones she loved. She closed stinging eyes against the memories. Akira stirred beside her.

“Seeing them causes you pain,” he spoke softly, misinterpreting the sorrow washing over her. “I'm sorry.”

Shaking her head, the kunoichi opened moist eyes. “No. Truth be told, when I'm not looking at their photos, I barely remember them. I was only six when they disappeared.” She did not speak of the Itasukis. He had already confessed his culpability there; to belabor it would only anger her. She was so _tired_ of being angry.

“Actually, it eases me, seeing them so.” She indicated her mother's face. “Though I see sadness here, I also see great love. I, myself, have seen such a look in another's eyes,” Soriya confessed, surprising herself. Awkwardly, she stopped, unsure what impulse had prompted such an admission. Warily, the kunoichi glanced at her uncle. She knew his empathic gift had the ability to coax people into confiding in him. It was, in large part, what made him such a skilled psych-nin.

People told him things. Things they might never say to another human being. Soriya had something of the same gift, when she could be bothered to use it. Usually, she found the necessary patience lacking. Especially since she had faster ways of gaining information. With trepidation, she waited to see what he would say.

Surprisingly, he merely murmured, “As have I. Though, to my everlasting despair, I could not hold it. I was too angry, and too damaged.” He turned a steady gaze on her. “Love is a fragile thing, my dear. Fear will kill it, as will anger. As empaths, we are particularly vulnerable to such strong emotions. Yet, inexplicably, we both chose careers where we drowned in them every day. Compelled by duty. By the need to do good. To protect.

“Be wary, my dear. I tell you truly: the power is unforgiving. And you have killed with yours. Such use rends the soul of the wielder—a damage that remains long after the event has passed. Given enough time, it can poison even the few good things in one's life. I know of what I speak.” He looked at the small photo of a teenaged Soriya. “You are young. There is still time for you to choose another path. It's not too late.”

Though the solemn advice was well-intentioned, it annoyed her. With effort, she managed to keep her voice even, replying, “Thanks, but I don't wish to discuss my duty or the choices I've made with you. I want only to know what happened to my parents.”

“Ah, yes. And I have promised to tell you. Perhaps it will serve to illustrate my point better than a lecture.” He smiled good-naturedly.

“But first, I must tell you a little of your Aunt Sayu. Most of the conflicts between Sumao and myself can be traced back to the moment of our younger sister's death.” He reached for the large, rectangular frame, picking it up so Soriya could view it more closely.

The professionally staged photograph portrayed Akira and his younger brother, Sumao. They were just entering manhood in the photo; she put their ages at perhaps eighteen and seventeen. Dressed formally, they stood behind a high-backed chair, facing the camera. A young girl wearing a pale pink kimono sat demurely on the seat in front of them. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face by a rose-colored ribbon. With black eyes that seemed warm and alive, and full lips curved in a gentle smile, she exuded a serenity well beyond her years. Soriya guessed she was about twelve.

“I've never seen this picture,” she remarked quietly. She sensed a deep and abiding sorrow in her uncle. An old wound, his sister's death, but one that still bled even after the passage of almost thirty years.

“No,” Akira answered somberly. “This is the only copy. One of the few things I took with me when Sumao married and I left the family home for an apartment in town. My brother was angry, of course.” He shrugged. “I, however, thought it only fair, considering what he had taken from me. Though, to be sure, I hardly considered it an equivalent exchange.”

Cognizant of his underlying anger, Soriya offered carefully, “Father rarely spoke of Aunt Sayu—it hurt him too much, I think. We had only one photo of her; she was older than this—sixteen, perhaps.” Because it seemed right to do so, Soriya added, “She was very beautiful.”

“She was,” he agreed softly, “and sweet-tempered as well. She had a touch of the empath about her, though not so strongly as either you or me. She had not the power to coerce others to do her will,” he paused, correcting himself with a slight smile. “That is, she had no more power than any other little girl with two foolish, doting older brothers. Brothers who wanted nothing better than to see her smile.” His face softened.

“From the very beginning, she was easy to love. Even as a baby, she rarely fussed—a good thing, because our mother, always somewhat frail, never fully recovered from Sayu's birth. She died less than a year later.

“Her death devastated Father. He couldn't bear to be reminded of her loss. Of course, Mother's touch was everywhere throughout the house and grounds. Father was a successful businessman and he found reasons to be away on business more and more frequently. He died in a traveling accident two years later.

“At ten, I was now Head of the Clan. Sumao was eight, and Sayu just three. Sumao and I were determined Sayu's care would not be relegated solely to servants. She was our sister and we adored her. Sumao and I, often at odds as children, found common cause in raising her. A purpose, if you will.” He smiled softly.

“You would've thought all the attention would have spoiled her. Yet Sayu took great care not to manipulate or play us against one another. She never asked anything of us that we would not gladly have given, until one day...” Akira paused, inhaling a deep breath. He released it on a sigh.

“It was inevitable, I suppose, that someone else would recognize the beauty, grace, and kindness that was Sayu.”

“She fell in love,” Soriya guessed.

“Yes. And sixteen, in those days, was considered an acceptable age at which to marry. The suitor in question, Ginta Toyotomi, was a good, capable man. He clearly loved our sister and could provide well for a family. I was inclined to favor him simply because he showed such good taste,” Akira's mouth quirked wryly.

“Sumao and I discussed the situation at length. Although 'discussed' is rather too mild a word. We argued fiercely. Sumao was dead set against allowing Sayu to marry. He thought her too young. He wanted to wait until she was eighteen. I understood his feelings. Secretly, I wished to be selfish and hold her to us a little longer, but I could see the advantages in such a match.” He looked at Soriya.

“Understand that I speak of more than just material concerns, although I would be lying if I said those didn't matter. Obstinately, Sumao neglected to consider Sayu and Ginta's feelings. Sumao had always been the least gifted of us. I hesitated to dismiss Ginta's suit because I _knew_ he was true. Also, I couldn't bear to deny Sayu her heart's desire. It was the only formal request she had ever made of me.”

He passed a hand wearily over his face. “Sumao and I debated for days. At one point, the argument became so heated that we almost came to blows. Sayu, distraught by the tension she had caused, begged us to stop fighting.” The psych-nin inhaled unsteadily. “She sank to her knees in front of us, in full subservient posture, forehead to the floor. In a small, choked voice, she asked me to reject Ginta's suit. She couldn't bear to be the cause of such distress to her beloved brothers.” He squeezed his eyes shut.

“It cut me to the quick to see her like that, prostrate before us. I could feel her anguish. Even Sumao felt it. We were so ashamed. To have hurt her so much that she would give up the man she loved for our selfish sakes... It was intolerable. So I made the first of the decisions that have haunted me ever since.”

“You let her go,” Soriya stated quietly.

He bowed his head. “Yes. Sumao could say nothing more. I was elder. As Head of the Clan, the decision was mine to make, although I generally strove for consensus. He was not pleased, but he held his peace, unwilling to cause Sayu more pain. As a kindness to her foolish brothers, Sayu persuaded Ginta to agree to a long engagement. They were married in the spring of the following year.”

He took a deep breath. “And for awhile, all seemed as it was meant to be. Sayu found great joy in her marriage, and Ginta's obvious devotion made the loss of her presence easier to bear. Sumao and I took great delight in dropping by for unexpected visits. Sayu, gentle as always, humored us in our amusements and we were content.

“The day Sayu told us she was pregnant, Sumao and I were overjoyed. We couldn't wait to be uncles and made plans to spoil the child mercilessly.” His face took on a faraway look, as though seeing the dream of a past that might have been.

Sadly, Soriya knew this part of the story. To spare him the necessity of speaking the words, she said, “Aunt Sayu went into early labor. Far too early. The baby—a girl—was stillborn. The midwife couldn't get Sayu's bleeding stopped and there were no medic-nin readily available due to the ongoing war.” She hesitated, unwilling to give voice to the tragic outcome.

His voice dark with grief, Akira acknowledged grimly, “She hemorrhaged to death. The warm, vibrant glow of her life snuffed out like a candle flame.” He held a hand over shadowed eyes, collecting himself with difficulty. “But that was not the only loss that night. The relationship between myself and Sumao was forever altered—as if some fragile, yet necessary balance had been destroyed by our sister's death.

“I know Sumao blamed me. He believed that had Sayu been older, stronger, both she and the child could have survived. And though I feel I was right to let Sayu follow her heart, there are times when I wonder...” He shook his head in resignation.

“Of course, I will never know. But her death changed the dynamic of our relationship in a way that eventually led to disaster for us all. Perhaps if the child had lived...” He shrugged, setting the photo carefully back onto the table. “Well, it matters not.”

Soriya was silent in the face of such palpable grief. But something confused her about his account.

“Uncle, I don't understand. You say Father was angry with you, that he blamed you for Sayu's death.” She paused, groping for the words. “Yet, as a child, I never felt such resentment in him, although on occasion, I sensed great sorrow and remorse. He lit the offerings for you and Aunt Sayu faithfully. Perhaps he did not truly blame you—or if he did, later he came to see that it wasn't your fault. What happened was a terrible tragedy, to be sure, but hardly one for which anyone could be blamed.”

Akira stared at the photo of Sumao and Kurumi, gray eyes unreadable. “He lit the offerings for me? I never knew.” In a slightly harder tone, he remarked, “Of course, Sumao could afford to be generous with his forgiveness by then. Everyone thought me dead. What use, hating the dead? They cannot feel it. Better to forgive and thus heal oneself.”

Soriya started at his words, so starkly spoken. It was this Ibiki-sensei and Kakashi had been trying to tell her. For the first time, she thought it might be possible to let go of her long-nurtured rage. It had been for someone other than this broken, sorrow-filled man anyway. But she had to hear the rest.

“Tell me all of it, Uncle. I can read some of the story in your face already. Tell me when you first fell in love with my mother,” she requested softly.

A dark eyebrow rose. “So, you've guessed that, have you?” Quietly, he admitted, “Yes, my dear. It was I, and not Sumao, who first met and fell in love with Kurumi Hyuga. She was a nurse in the hospital where I worked. There was such a kind, gentle way about her that was far more enticing to me than mere beauty alone, although she was beautiful. Her pale silver eyes captivated me. So expressive, those eyes. They sparkled with joy over something as simple as a butterfly, yet glimmered with tears at the death of a patient. Kurumi was never afraid to cry or show emotion. Her sincerity and compassion among the staff at the hospital was noteworthy. She was very giving, always knowing which of the wounded needed her most.” He laughed derisively. “Undoubtedly, that was what drew her to me in the first place.”

“What do you mean?”

He answered matter-of-factly, “My life was a shambles. An empty farce. Sayu was dead. Sumao hated me; we barely spoke. I threw myself into work, but even that provided no respite. The horrible, ugly images and emotions were slowly getting to me. I had nightmares more and more frequently, although I'd become adept at hiding the signs. Or so I thought.

“One day, after a particularly grueling session with a patient, she was there, waiting in my office. She handed me a cup of hot cocoa. She didn't say a word, just stood there while I tasted it, looking at me with those opaque silver eyes. Of course, I didn't realize she'd added a generous portion of whiskey to the drink and I choked on it.” His eyes crinkled slightly at the memory.

“I asked what she thought she was doing, giving me alcohol when I was working. She just smiled and said I had no more patients that day and was off-duty. Plus, I looked like I was in desperate need of some 'loosening up.' Then she asked if I'd like to take her to dinner.”

Soriya blinked at this image of her mother. _Well, she certainly wasn't shy._

“After that, we spent most of our free time together. I introduced her to Sumao at some point. He and I had established an uneasy truce, living as we did in the same house. Although, with my work schedule and the large expanse of the Kanzin estate, we rarely found ourselves in each others' company.” He paused, picking up the small oval-shaped frame. Soriya's mother looked playfully at the camera, grin splitting her face so wide a small dimple peeked out at the corner of her mouth.

Absently, Akira murmured, “You look very like her. Especially when you smile.”

Abruptly, he continued, “I took this picture. This is how she looked at _me.”_ His voice took on an undertone of bitter anger. “Sumao saw it, of course. I believe he envied me, though he took care not to show it.” The psych-nin snorted. “He needn't have bothered. In the end, it wasn't he who destroyed my relationship with Kurumi. No. For that, I have only myself to blame.”

Hearing the self-loathing in his voice, Soriya hesitated. Her uncle's pain was unfeigned. But could she trust his version of events? Uneasily, she watched his eyes settle on the engagement photo.

“What happened, Uncle? What happened between you and my mother?”

The psych-nin looked up from the photo. Harshly, he retorted, “Life happened. The war. My work. Duty.” He made a visible effort to suppress his bitterness. “You will understand better if I show you,” he offered, holding out a hand.

She stepped back from him, suddenly wary. He froze at her look of distrust, then clarified softly, “The Darkness reacts badly to anger and other negative emotions. It is a kind of self-defense mechanism. If you remain calm and do not threaten me, I should have enough control to contain it. The question is, will you trust me?”

The kunoichi stared at him, eyes flicking briefly from the offered palm back to his face. Had she glimpsed pain in his eyes just now? Unbidden, Kakashi's face surfaced in her thoughts. He had trusted her in just this way. Could she trust her uncle similarly? If the answer was no, then how could she believe anything he told her?

_I want to trust him._

Slowly, Soriya reached out, clasping the proffered hand in a strong grip. She sucked in a breath at the contact. No Darkness awaited her. Tightening her hold, the telepath concentrated on the images in his mind.

_The hospital. Patient after patient. Kurumi's concerned face. Fatigue. He was always so tired. The nightmares kept him awake. Kurumi arguing that he was working too hard, doing too much. She couldn't understand. They needed him. No one else could do what he did. No one had the ability._

_Sumao attempting to persuade him to take a leave of absence. Akira's fury when he realized Kurumi had gone to Sumao behind his back for help. Her tearful face pleading with him after a particularly awful day. The palpable rage churning in his gut. It escaped more and more frequently in harsh, hurtful words. Tonight, he couldn't contain it, couldn't stop it bubbling up from inside of him. She had been to see his brother again, in desperation. He erupted, striking out in fury at the last person he ever wanted to hurt._

_Terrified, she fled from him, the red on her cheek a vivid contrast to the chalk white of her skin. Her beautiful silver eyes. He'd never seen fear in them before. He felt ill. His anger had driven her away and he knew she would not be back. At least she would be safe. Safe from him._

_Despair. Misery. Hopelessness._

_Then Yui came. Someone even more broken and wretched than he. Determination. She would be his salvation. His atonement. Even the crushing blow of Kurumi's subsequent marriage to Sumao could not deter him. His work, his duty—they were all he had left. They'd cost him everything else. What more had he to lose? Yui's pale, beautiful, mad face cracking a feral grin. Blue eyes glittered feverishly as she told him she was going 'hunting.' His desperate attempt to dissuade the Hokage from using Yui that way. He had even demeaned himself by begging. Devastation at his utter failure. The slim hope she might yet survive, brutally crushed when the RU returned with her head._

_She was no longer beautiful, his poor, mad Yui._

_He thought of ending his own life that night. Wanted to do it. Even held the knife in unsteady hands as he knelt on the floor. But then, inexplicably, she came._

_Kurumi. His lost love._

_She crouched down, wrapping her arms tightly around him from behind. Silky red hair drifted forward over his shoulder as tears fell on the back of his neck. He could feel her heartbeat. And because it was her gift, however small, to see what was needed, she offered the comfort he craved. It was wrong, she knew, but she couldn't deny him this one small thing. Not when it might save his life. Though she could not be with him, she loved him still. She wanted him to live._

_He felt all this, knew it for truth, yet reached for the lifeline she extended._

_Afterwards, when she'd dressed, her palm cupped his cheek gently, like mother to child. Sad silver eyes lingered on his face. After a moment, she rose and left him quietly. He was alone again._

_Numbness. Going through the motions of his day. A slowly building need to escape, run away, never look back. But the war was at a critical stage—they would never agree to let him go. His gift was needed, even though it was slowly driving him mad. He was trapped. Imprisoned by the cage of his duty. What had duty ever gotten him? Uncontrollable anger, sleepless nights, and the loss of his love, not to mention his eroding sanity. He had to get out. Then, an unlooked-for gift, thrust his way._

_Haruma Anji. His means of deliverance. With Anji's help, the psych-nin would finally be free..._

The vision faded as Akira gently removed his hand from Soriya's grasp. Quietly, he stated, “A month after Kurumi and I began dating, I was promoted to Head of the Psych Department. Our relationship did not survive it.” He looked at Soriya. “It is a terrible thing to be an empath in a time of war. The power does not spare one the effects of its use.”

“Meaning?”

“You should know exactly what I mean, my dear. You are both empath and telepath. You have killed. Tell me, how did it feel?”

She flinched as though struck. He waited expectantly for her response. Debating with herself a moment, the kunoichi decided to answer honestly.

“Dirty,” she replied, voice barely audible. “It made me feel dirty. Seeing those terrible things in their minds—things they'd done or planned to do. You must know of what I speak.” Blood-red hair stirred uneasily at her back. “Chaos on so large a scale... I have prevented wars with the death of a single person. It's not a pretty task; I accept that and choose to make the sacrifice in order to save lives. I have never killed any—save one—who had not earned it ten times over.”

“Ah, my dear, you lie to yourself so well you almost convince me,” the psych-nin murmured. “Yet, it was not to 'save lives' that you killed Ryuji. Mujito, perhaps, I'll believe. Let us have nothing but honesty between us. You killed Ryuji solely for revenge. I want to know how it made you _feel.”_

Soriya stared at him. Mentally, she flashed back to the sound of her palms slapping against the rogue ninja's cheeks. Saw the fear in his eyes, so gratifying after what he'd done to Emiko. To Kaito. To her. She had reveled in his terror. He knew he about to die. The release of pent up fury was almost orgasmic as she poured her rage and pain into him. She'd felt a fierce satisfaction as he exploded under the full force of her power.

Suddenly, it was hard to breathe. A sour taste rose in the back of the kunoichi's throat. She swallowed, struggling for control of her emotions. Finally, she croaked out, “It made me feel _powerful._ Righteous. I _wanted_ his death. Sacrificed my body to gain it. I _enjoyed_ it.” She stopped, panting harshly.

“But?” Akira prompted gently.

She made an effort to slow her breathing. Shakily, she replied, “But...I saw Kaito's face again. Really _looked_ at him. His eyes were empty—he was gone. But his expression when he lay dying...” She stared at her uncle in confusion. “He wasn't angry or even afraid, although the bolt had taken him completely by surprise. No. The look in his eyes...it was apologetic. He was _sorry._ Sorry he'd failed me.” She laughed, the sharp, ugly noise sounding like a sob to her ears.

_“Why?_ Why would he look at me that way? When _I_ was the one who failed him so utterly. He knew, _knew_ I intended to sacrifice myself that day. It was a complete betrayal of his faith and trust in me. Yet he came back anyway. To save me. And died because of it.” She bowed her head.

“He loved you. As did Emiko,” the psych-nin stated simply. “He couldn't let you go to your death that easily. Better to die trying to save you. Otherwise he would've had to live with the knowledge of his failure afterwards. Which can be far more difficult than dying—as you now know.”

She shook her head. “I didn't think about it. About what it would have meant for him, losing us both. At that moment, seeing him lying there, I was simply furious. In my anguish, I lashed out at Ryuji's men, even though I really wanted to just curl up and die. But that look in Kaito's eyes... I couldn't give up. Not when he'd given his life trying to save me. So, I took my great rage—my hatred—and I slaughtered them all, like animals.” She quieted, then confessed baldly, “And I felt _nothing._ Nothing at all. Though, the power—this _gift,”_ she spat, “nearly destroyed me.”

“Of course it did,” he replied softly. “As an empath, much of your strength is derived from emotion. Your hate, your rage—they make you powerful. But they are a double-edged sword, pushing you toward actions that are self-destructive in nature. Do you know why that is?”

Numbly, she shook her head.

“Can you not see it?” the psych-nin prodded gently. “Kakashi sees it clearly, though I believe he has only realized the truth recently. Has he not told you?”

Soriya recalled the thoughts she'd glimpsed in the Copy Ninja's mind. Tentatively, she ventured, “He thinks I find ways to punish myself for using the power.” A pause, then more slowly, “No. For being _born_ with the power. Power that didn't enable me to save my parents or the Itasukis. Emiko, Kaito.” Unshed tears glimmered in her eyes. “I don't even know if Iori is really alive and unharmed, despite what you say.”

The psych-nin sighed. “He is alive and well, Soriya. I have no reason to lie to you. Not now. What would be the point? I imagine Kakashi has already seen the boy home.” At her look of surprise, he added, “You passed the image from my mind on to him when you kissed him, yes? You gave him the location and asked him to rescue the child.” He shrugged. “Kakashi is probably on his way here as we speak. I left a note telling him where to find us.”

“You left a note?” She frowned. “Then...Iori's kidnapping was just a ruse to get him out of the way? But how could you know Kakashi would be able to find him? Or that he'd agree to leave...” her voice trailed off. Kakashi hadn't wanted to leave, of course. Soriya stared at her uncle incredulously.

“Are you crazy? I could have killed you! Kakashi could have killed you! You must be insane to risk such a thing.”

“Well, I had planned on revealing the child's whereabouts once I was certain you'd come with me voluntarily. But when you attacked me and obtained the information yourself, I assumed I no longer had to bother. It's true I deliberately provoked Kakashi to make you send him after Iori. I wanted to speak with you alone. The things we are discussing are deeply personal and do not require an audience.

“Besides,” he shrugged, “there's no way Kakashi would have stood by and let you enter my mind a second time. It's best he wasn't here for that particular bit. In fact, you might want to keep it to yourself,” he advised with a wink. “I promise I won't tell.”

Her lips twitched slightly. “Still, you took a great risk, especially with Kakashi. I barely managed to turn his blade. If he'd been using his Sharingan... Let's just say we wouldn't be having this conversation,” she chided him.

“My death was assured the moment I helped Anji escape. I accept that and am content to meet my fate. You bear no responsibility for the choices I've made. Remember that.” His eyes turned once more to the pictures. Quietly, he added, “I would see Sayu and Sumao again. And Kurumi.” The longing in his voice was painful to hear.

_So, they are truly dead._

She had resigned herself to this outcome long ago. It came as no surprise. Soberly, she asked, “How did they die?” Even the ache caused by speaking the words was dull and distant.

He took a moment to gauge her mood, then shrugged.

“Come.”

He turned on his heel, moving to the front door of the house. Soriya lingered momentarily, gaze sweeping over the photos one last time. She paused at the last, smallest photo. The day she made chunin. She'd been thirteen. Idly, she speculated on how he'd come by it.

Suddenly, learning the truth seemed a daunting prospect. Uneasily, the kunoichi wondered if she would ever be the same. Sneering at her weakness, Soriya blew out the candle flame and followed the psych-nin out of the house.


	11. Chapter 11

The kunoichi inhaled a breath of moist air, heavy with the scent of water. Less than a kilometer west, Ganji Falls rumbled and crashed, an ever-present white noise in the background. Soriya lifted her face to the ominous-looking sky. The sun had vanished, hidden behind dense gray clouds. Undoubtedly, there would be rain by evening. Thunderstorms and flash flooding were not uncommon here, a product of the dry desert climate interacting with moisture-laden air from the north and east.

Turning gray eyes downward, she stared somberly at the expanse of grass at her feet. It appeared no different than any other patch of summer greenery—there was nothing special about it. Nothing to indicate two people she'd loved lay buried here. Only a weeping willow—a species of tree not usually seen this far west—marked the site as something more than ordinary.

“Your mother loved weeping willows,” Akira reflected quietly. “She thought them melancholy, yet strong and graceful in their sorrow.” He smiled wistfully. “Kurumi was very sentimental.”

Taking care to walk around the unmarked graves, he slipped between the long, drifting fronds of the tree, stirring them slightly in his passage. Laying a palm against the pale trunk in greeting, he mused, “This good fellow has kept watch with me these last eighteen years.” He patted the trunk fondly. “An acceptable tombstone, don't you think?”

Soriya studied his world-weary face. She could see the sorrow etched in slate gray eyes. But there was something else as well... Relief, perhaps? She watched him closely as he looked back at her, his hand resting against the pale bark of the tree.

“We've been comrades of a sort, this weeping willow and I, in our lonely vigil. But soon, my friend,” he addressed the tree, “you must take up the duty without me.”

Soriya shook her head irritably. “The way you talk, one would think you're looking forward to your own execution.”

The psych-nin shrugged, unconcerned. “I'm tired, my dear. I've carried this burden of guilt for a long, long time. Finally, I will lay it down and earn my rest. I'm at peace with it. You must accept this,” he advised, not unkindly, turning away from the tree.

The breeze strengthened, blowing long strands of hair across the kunoichi's face. She did not reply. Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance. Suddenly, Soriya wished Kakashi were here. She wanted his calm strength and clear vision just now.

“Tell me the rest,” she urged him, tucking wayward tresses behind her ear.

The lines of his face softened. After a moment, he asked, “Do you remember that day in the woods, Soriya? The day a little girl and an even younger boy encountered a stray dog caught in a trap?” He nodded at the kunoichi's start of recognition. “I remember it well. Almost like it was yesterday.”

Numbly, she stared at him.

_So. He was watching, even then._

When she remained silent, the psych-nin continued, “The dog had broken its right front leg--”

“The left front,” Soriya corrected absently, eyes unreadable.

“Ah, yes. Forgive me,” Akira agreed mildly. “In any case, the animal was crazed with pain, snapping and snarling. It was impossible to get near it. In its frenzy, the dog was doing itself additional harm and the boy began to cry. Do you know what the girl did then?” he asked, curious to see what she would say.

“Why don't you tell me, Uncle,” Soriya retorted smoothly, an edge to her voice. “You were obviously watching very closely.”

“Indeed,” he acknowledged, “though I was stunned and amazed by what I saw.

“The girl turned to the boy, calming him with a touch. She told him to run and fetch his father, which he left to do immediately. Then, this intrepid, six-year-old child turned back to the dog. The growling, bristling bundle of muscle and sinew. It must have outweighed her by sixty pounds, at least, and could have torn out her throat with ease. But she didn't even hesitate—this fearless, resolute little girl. She walked right up to the wounded animal, looking it straight in the eyes. And with barely a whimper, it collapsed to the ground, unconscious.”

Soriya's face held a strange expression as she explained, “The dog—it was frightened and in such pain. I thought, maybe if it were asleep it would hurt less. And because I wished it, it was so.” Softly, she confessed, “I hadn't known I could do that. It had never happened before.”

“You used your gift actively for the first time that day, to enforce your will. I felt the chakra surge and the unnatural breeze that stirred the forest leaves. The sudden fatigue that washed over me.” Akira spoke, remembered awe evident in his voice. “Such power... Only with effort was I able to resist the compulsion to sleep. The dog had no chance at all. I knew then—” he broke off.

“Knew what?”

The psych-nin ignored the question. “Tell me, my dear. What did your parents say when you told them?”

Soriya thought a moment. “At first, Father believed I imagined it. He said the dog had likely passed out from shock and blood loss. It was a fairly bad break, after all.” She grimaced. Even now, the knowledge he had doubted her rankled.

“But later, after my mother and Yoshi bound and splinted the dog's leg, I proved him wrong. We caged it in one of Yoshi's sheds while its leg healed. But the bandages needed changing daily. Yoshi and my father were going to muzzle and restrain the dog while my mother changed the dressings, but it was a dangerous task. The animal was huge and very strong. One wrong move and someone could get seriously hurt.” She paused, remembering.

Akira anticipated her. “So, you used your gift again. This time, they could not refute it.”

“Yes,” she admitted, “although my control was sorely lacking. Without meaning to, I put them _all_ to sleep. You can imagine the consternation that ensued when everyone woke up,” she chuckled wryly.

“Father was rueful, though secretly proud, I think. Mother was...I don't know exactly. She was surprised—we all were. But she had this really odd look on her face. It wasn't fear, I don't think, or even anger; she just turned pale. And got really quiet.” Soriya shrugged. “I thought maybe it wasn't good that I could do this. That it wasn't normal.” She sighed. “After that, I avoided using the power so blatantly, although I continued to help with the dog.

“With practice, my control got better and better. Before long, I was able to keep the animal calm without sending him to sleep at all. And no one else was affected by so much as a stray yawn.” A hint of pride crept into her voice. “My parents warned me not to talk about my gift outside the family. They said it might frighten others. I could tell Mother was particularly worried, although she never told me why, exactly.”

“She knew,” Akira pronounced softly. “Just as I did, the moment I felt your power.”

“Knew what? What are you talking about?” Soriya exclaimed, exasperated.

He shook his head, sighing. “Such tremendous power, my dear. Don't you see?” Sympathetic gray eyes traced the kunoichi's face. “Or could it be that you don't want to, knowing what it will mean?”

She frowned in frustration. “I don't understand you!”

Apologetically, he elaborated, “Sumao never had such power. Of the three of us siblings, he was the least gifted. And Kurumi's Hyuga blood was dilute, her gift weak. Alone, it could not account for your astounding strength. No.” Solemn gray orbs held her gaze. “I am sorry, my dear. So sorry.”

Soriya stared at him uncomprehendingly. His words made no sense. She wanted them not to make sense. Shakily, she put out a hand.

“No.”

As if, by denying the words, she could strip them of their meaning. Prevent the truth from taking root. Everything she knew about herself was a lie.

“No,” she said again, “it's not true. You're lying.” But the words fell flat, even to her ears. He smiled sadly.

“I wish, for your sake, that I were. Suki...” He exhaled unsteadily. “Sumao was _not_ your father—and I am sorry for it. Far better for you had he been. You would not now bear the burden of this dangerous power. This cruel curse.” He closed his eyes. Opened them. Soriya was startled to see the glint of tears.

“Seeing you that day—I knew, _knew_ what you would face. The loneliness. The pain. The isolation. Believe that I never wanted that for you. I never wanted you to suffer as I have. My daughter.” He offered the last gently, hesitantly, not sure how it would be received.

The kunoichi stood motionless. She didn't know how to feel, what to think. It was too much, all at once. She needed time. Time to absorb it all. But time was the one thing she lacked.

As if responding to her agitation, the wind picked up, scattering fallen leaves, while the branches of the weeping willow swayed alarmingly. The gray sky flickered in warning, followed by the sound of rolling thunder. Angrily, Soriya's head whipped from side to side, long tendrils of hair lashing the air.

“No. No!” she cried. “I don't understand you! Why tell me this? Why now? ANBU is hunting you! Why reveal yourself, knowing it will mean your death? Are you _trying_ to hurt me?” Anguished, she spun away from him. She refused to cry in front of this man.

Sumao, not her father? She didn't want to believe it. But really, it would explain so many things. The sadness she glimpsed from time to time in Mother's silver eyes. The elusive feeling of being watched over the years. Akira's determination to “rescue” her from the village. His persistent interest and concern regarding her career as shinobi. No. It all made a devastating kind of sense. This man—this broken, despairing, ruined man—her father. Why had he come to her now? Unless...

“The Hokage has ordered your death,” she intoned dully. “I can't save you. Don't ask me.” Slowly, she turned to face him, gray eyes luminous with unshed tears. “Is that why you came? After all this time?” Her face hardened. “Well, I'm sorry, _Father,”_ she sneered, “I won't make that sacrifice for you. I can't. Even if I wanted to...” she trailed off miserably.

Tentatively, Akira raised a hand to the distraught woman's cheek. Let it fall when she flinched back from him. Softly, he entreated, “Suki, please. I didn't come here intending for you to save me. I would never ask you to betray your duty, the village, your entire life here. You value them. I did, as well, once, long ago. I understand.

“I didn't come to destroy you or to hurt you, although I suppose the latter was unavoidable. I came to _save_ you. From yourself. All I ask is your understanding and forgiveness, nothing more.”

“You want my forgiveness?” She laughed unsteadily. “For what? Being my father? Loving my mother?” Scarlet hair thrashed violently at her back. Desperately, Soriya struggled to contain turbulent emotions.

“Perhaps you betrayed my f—” she paused awkwardly, “Sumao, but Mother _came_ to you. She wanted to save you.” In a smaller voice, “She loved you.”

“But she feared me, Daughter. Don't forget that. And she loved Sumao, as well. Only years later, after sorrow had blunted my anger, did I come to understand her fully.

“Kurumi loved us both; her heart was large enough for that. Even after I drove her away, she couldn't let go completely. She chose Sumao because she could be with him _without fear._ Fear of him, or fear of losing him to madness. His gift was not strong enough to make her afraid. Not like mine. Or yours.” He looked at her.

“Fortunately for you, Kakashi is strong. He does not scare easily.” Akira nodded approvingly. “Don't push him away, Daughter. You'll regret it—as I have—for the rest of your life.”

“Did Sumao know?” Soriya asked quietly. She wasn't entirely certain which answer she wanted to hear.

“Did he know you were not his child?” the psych-nin clarified. She nodded.

“No. Not until the very end. Kurumi never told him about that night, the night she saved me. By the time she realized she was pregnant, there was no need. I was supposedly dead. And there was every chance that you were, in fact, Sumao's child. Honestly, I don't think Kurumi ever suspected otherwise until your power manifested.

“But I didn't consider any of this when I summoned them via one of Anji's ninja. I was too angry. Angry that the gods would grant me a child. A child I could never acknowledge—because I was “dead”—with the woman I loved, but could never have. It seemed too cruel a jest. And then, to foist upon this child, this innocent, such terrible power. I feared what would become of you.” He passed a hand wearily over his face.

“I admit—I was not gentle with them. Especially Kurumi. Being near her again after so long... It hurt. I yearned to touch her, hold her in my arms, see her smile...” He closed his eyes. “The longing was so powerful—but I no longer had the right. The pain was maddening, almost like losing her all over again. I was incautious with my words that day. I spoke to wound. Lashing out, I demanded to know how long she had known you were _my_ daughter.

“Sumao was shocked, of course. The look in his eyes... I'd never seen such a look, not even when Sayu died. It was a devastating blow, cruelly delivered. Although I'm ashamed to say, in the midst of my own selfish pain, I didn't care. I was just furious—with him, with her, with myself, the gods...” He sighed forlornly. “Of all the many mistakes I've made, I regret those harsh, ugly words the most. I should have found a better way.”

“What did Mother do?”

He shrugged. “She just stood there, staring at me with those beautiful silver eyes. I sensed many emotions from her. Fear. Sorrow. Pity.” He exhaled audibly. _“Love._ It is that last that stays with me. She didn't hate me, even at the end. I hold to that, in my darkest hours.

“Sumao saw. With tears in his eyes, he clutched her shoulders, demanding to know if my accusation were true. He practically begged her to deny it.”

Pensively, the psych-nin mused, “I believe, to this day, that had Kurumi chosen to lie, Sumao would have accepted her denial as truth. He loved her that much. But Kurumi recognized the inherent dangers of your power. She, too, knew the difficulties you would face. In the end, she chose not to lie, although in retrospect, perhaps she should have.

“Understandably, Sumao became enraged. Her admission was like a knife to his heart. But he loved her still. He could not vent his fury and pain upon her, so he turned to me. In a rage, he attacked me and we fought, viciously pummeling each other with our hurt, our anger. Kurumi begged for us to stop. Like Sayu, she couldn't bear for us to fight. She tried to separate us.” He bowed his head.

“Perhaps if our battle had remained a physical one, a mere trading of punches, we could have exhausted our rage. Then maybe we could've reached some kind of accord—formed a plan to help you. But I had grown lax in my vigilance. The Darkness had lain dormant inside me for so long. It stirred at the violence. And in my fury, my agony, I was unprepared. It erupted uncontrollably.” His voice shook.

“Kurumi sensed the danger first. Frantically, she tried to pull Sumao away, but it was too late. Like a shroud, Darkness rose up around me. In my shock and horror, I was powerless to stop it from enveloping them. It devoured their minds right before my eyes.” He shuddered at the awful memory, drawing a shaky breath. Several moments passed before the psych-nin mastered himself enough to continue. “With your power and training, you were able to resist the Darkness to some extent. It helped that I was a great deal calmer at the time. Even so, had Kakashi not been there...” Haunted eyes searched the kunoichi's face. “Sumao and Kurumi had no chance at all,” he finished flatly.

“I told you earlier that I was not a killer. I lied. My anger, my loss of control killed them, as surely as if I held a knife to their throats.” He paused. “We are not so unalike, you and I. My daughter. But your existence need not be as wretched as mine.” Earnestly, he entreated, “I know I've never been a father to you. I can't change the past. And we have no future together, you and I. There is only now. I wanted you to know the truth. You were loved by all the people in your life, Suki. Your mother. Sumao.” Gray eyes softened. “Your father.

“Let go of your anger. You are strong enough—you don't need it. Keep your loved ones close. Only their support can ease you. Don't push them away, like I did. In the end, doing so offers no protection at all, for them or for you.”

Soriya blinked back tears. To destroy the people one loved, right before one's eyes... It was just too awful. For Akira, the gift had truly become curse. How could she hate such a man? There would be no point. He hated himself enough for both of them. He deserved her sympathy. He wanted her forgiveness. Could she give him that? Slowly, her hand rose to hover above his cheek. He closed his eyes, awaiting her decision. Inhaling unsteadily, she made her choice.

“Father,” she offered the title hesitantly, shyly, “if I could explain the situation to the Hokage—if I could convince her to commute the death sentence—would you come back with me? To the village?”

He opened gray eyes, so similar to her own. How had she not noticed before? Gently, so gently, Akira leaned his face into her palm. She did not pull away and he smiled.

“I thank you for that, my daughter. You cannot know how much your offer eases me. But no. My fate is sealed. There is no cure for my affliction; the Darkness has been with me far too long. I won't have you risk yourself at this late date.”

“What if I were able to heal you?”

“No.” He shook his head firmly. “That is not possible. I will not allow you to attempt such a foolhardy thing. Put it out of your mind.” He withdrew from her, stepping back regretfully.

Obstinately, she pressed him, “Not myself. Another way. If there were another way to restore your mind without risk to me, would you try it?” A prickle of unease crept down her spine. Slowly, her pupils dilated. They were running out of time.

“Promise me!” She demanded, when he did not answer. “Promise you'll let me try!” She wielded guilt like a knife blade, hands fisting at her sides. Thunder rumbled, an echo of her rising emotion. “You've never given me anything except this gift I didn't ask for, and a truth I didn't want. Give me your promise now!” A tear escaped the kunoichi's right eye, trickling delicately down the smooth cheek.

The psych-nin stared at her a long moment, then nodded slowly. “All right, Daughter. All right. But _you_ must promise _me_ not to endanger your life over this. I won't allow it.” He frowned. “I had hoped Kakashi would be here by now. I wonder what could be keeping him?”

Soriya offered a watery smile, laughing weakly, “Well, Kakashi's not exactly known for his punctuality.” Then, more seriously, “Don't worry. I can handle this. Now go on. Hide yourself,” she nodded toward the surrounding trees.

His eyes lingered on her face, taking in the resolute expression. Tenderly, he reached out, stroking her cheek with his fingertips. She relaxed into the gentle caress a moment, then stepped away, blinking rapidly. Suddenly, her eyes shifted, darting southward. Flatly, she warned, “I think, Father, that we're out of time.”

XXX

Takeo raised a hand in silent warning, calling a halt to the squad's forward progress. Crouching down on the tree limb, he listened intently. After several moments, the tiger-masked shinobi's gloved fingers formed a “V”, indicating the presence of two people up ahead. Everyone turned to Ibiki Morino. Grimly, the scarred shinobi nodded, placing a hand on his chest before pointing to the ground. He looked to the east. He intended to intercept their stalker here.

Takeo nodded in understanding. With rising excitement, he motioned Yuichigo and Enya to follow, disappearing swiftly and silently into the trees.

_Soon, Soriya, soon._

In seconds, the trio vanished.

Shrugging tense shoulders irritably, Morino examined his surroundings. This seemed as good a place as any to greet the wayward Copy Ninja. Picking a likely spot, the scarred shinobi concealed himself, melting into the shadows of the forest.

XXX

When Soriya first felt the brush of her fellow shinobi's minds, her initial thought was one of relief. Enya was with them. He'd want to help her. Incongruously, that meant she could trust him not to interfere with any actions she chose to take. The kunoichi's second thought was one of concern.

_Takeo._

Though it had been two years and more, there was no mistaking the cool savagery of that mental signature. Even at this distance, she sensed his lust for battle. Worrisome, that. Even at her best, sparring with Takeo was brutal and exhausting. And today was hardly one of her better days. Pummeled emotionally by revelations, Soriya just felt drained. Could she handle the powerful shinobi in such a state?

She grimaced. He wasn't likely to give her much choice in the matter.

And it was not just Takeo about whom she need worry. She thought the other mind might be Yuichigo, although having met him only briefly, she was uncertain. He was an unknown, but she doubted he knew much about her either. Advantage: Soriya. Not for the first time was she thankful the Hokage insisted her abilities largely be kept secret.

Further away, the telepath detected the cool, implacable wall that could only be Ibiki-sensei. If (by some miracle) she managed to defeat both Takeo and Yuichigo, what would he do? She recalled Kakashi's warning with misgiving. Would her mentor really kill her if she proved too dangerous? She was not planning for anyone to die, but in battle—especially with Takeo—anything could happen.

And what of Kakashi? His calm, comforting presence tingled in the back of her mind. Though she knew it was unwise to waste the chakra, she couldn't help reaching out to him briefly. He started in surprise, recognizing her light touch.

_Soriya?_

A wave of relief washed over the telepath as she realized Iori was safe at home. Regretfully, she shut down the connection without responding to his concerned query. The less Kakashi gleaned from her, the better. She didn't want him to be forced to choose between aiding her or obeying the Hokage's directive. For once, his tardiness worked to Soriya's advantage; briefly, she wondered if he'd done it on purpose, in order to give her time to act. Hopefully, she'd have things sorted out before he got mixed up in it.

She needed to explain things to Ibiki-sensei. Perhaps, if she could take care of Takeo and Yuichigo quickly—without killing them—she'd have the opportunity. Doing so would not be easy. Brute force against the both of them wouldn't work. She'd have to rely on guile. If only she could devise a way to split them up...

Takeo would insist on fighting her, of course. He just couldn't let go of past grievances. Perhaps if she gave him what he wanted? An idea began to take shape in the kunoichi's mind.

_Yes, that just might work._

Drawing a deep breath, Soriya summoned chakra. It was a good thing she was a convincing actress. At least four lives depended on it, her own among them.

XXX

From the seclusion of her office, the Hokage monitored the situation through the scrying crystal with mounting anxiety. Sending out Ibiki's group had been a calculated gamble. Tsunade was mindful of what Kakashi had told her of Soriya's emotional state. She hoped her decision would not push Soriya or the psych-nin into doing anything rash. Not for the first time, the Hokage wished she had a better idea of Akira Kanzin's ultimate goal. He had them all off-balance. At least the child had not been harmed.

She watched intently as Takeo and Yuichigo crouched on the edge of a grass-covered field, surveying the scene. Through the curved surface of the sphere, she could just make out the edge of a small house, and two figures standing beyond it. Soriya and Kanzin, she guessed. They appeared to be deep in conversation and unaware of the operatives spying on them.

_Well, Soriya seems not to be in any immediate danger._

Still, Tsunade couldn't help but feel something was wrong. Uneasily, she wondered at her sudden ability to perceive the duo in the crystal. Had the psych-nin exhausted his chakra? Or perhaps Kanzin no longer felt it necessary to maintain the jutsu.

_But that would mean..._

Suspicious, Tsunade concentrated the sphere's power on the dignified-looking older man, then shifted focus, examining the kunoichi carefully. It took no more than a few seconds for her experienced healer's eyes to grasp what they were seeing. She inhaled sharply in recognition, fingers clutching the crystal in a death grip.

There was no way to warn them. In fact, by that time, it was already too late.

XXX

“My, my... How careless you've grown,” Takeo observed sardonically.

The kunoichi whirled, instantly dropping into a ready stance. The older man standing behind her blinked in surprise, appraising the two ANBU operatives steadily. Takeo noted he did not appear particularly alarmed at their presence.

_A cool customer, that one. Powerful, too._

Shifting his attention back to the redheaded jonin, he scanned her out of habit, but failed to get a sense of the woman's chakra.

_No surprise there._

Aloud, he commanded, “Stand aside, Soriya. Our orders come directly from the Hokage: Akira Kanzin is to be executed on charges of treason, murder, and kidnapping. Interfere at your peril,” he warned. His tone of voice indicated he didn't particularly care whether she heeded him or not.

“Takeo. Yuichigo.” She nodded to the rat-masked operative. “I don't want to fight you, but I can't permit you to carry out your mission. I must speak with the Hokage. You cannot kill this man.”

Takeo motioned to his right, indicating Yuichigo should fan out, flanking the kunoichi on her left side. The move forced the woman to turn slightly in order to track them both. He advanced a few steps as gray sky flickered above them. Thunder rumbled, closer this time.

“Soriya, this is madness. You cannot stop us. Would you defend a murderer?” Takeo asked in disbelief.

“He is not guilty of murder, Takeo. I _know,”_ she emphasized.

He caught her meaning but was unmoved. “This man set Haruma Anji, an enemy of Leaf Village, free. In the process of doing so, he deserted his post in a time of war. Do you deny this?”

She shook her head. “No. I cannot deny it. But, Takeo, you don't understand,” she sighed wearily. “His gift... He is not quite...sane.”

Implacably, the black-clad ninja asserted, “All the more reason to deal with him permanently. Would you see another Orochimaru unleashed upon our village? His madness and lust for power nearly destroyed us all.” He shook his head. “Akira Kanzin is a traitor, Soriya. You cannot defend him.”

“He's my father!” she burst out, desperately trying to sway the unsympathetic shinobi. “The Hokage needs to hear the whole story. I can't just let you kill him!”

Takeo paused. Yuichigo cocked his head, silently asking for direction. Again, Takeo shook his head.

“Doesn't matter,” he said flatly. Grudgingly, he added, “Although I am...sorry...for you. There is only one end for traitors, Soriya. Even—and perhaps especially—the mad ones. You know this.” His voice hardened. “Now stand down or face the consequences!”

Not daring to turn, Soriya instructed the man at her back, “Looks like we're out of time, Father. I'll hold them here. Run and hide yourself. I'll come for you after I've seen the Hokage.”

The dark-haired man hesitated, lined face creasing in uncertainty. It was clear he did not want to abandon the kunoichi.

“What are you waiting for?” Soriya snapped, drawing a kunai. “Get going!”

As though some invisible cord had been cut by her harsh tone, the psych-nin turned and fled, escaping into the shelter of the trees. Yuichigo moved to pursue, halting abruptly as the kunoichi streaked into his path, kunai at the ready. He glanced at the tiger-masked shinobi, who barked, “Go on! I'll deal with her.”

Without another word, Takeo pounced, forcing the redhead to meet his charge. Snapping his left foot out sharply in a sidekick to disarm her, he followed with a right-handed punch to the jaw. Soriya leapt backwards, narrowly avoiding the dual blows.

Taking advantage of the kunoichi's momentary distraction, Yuichigo vanished into the trees in pursuit of the fleeing psych-nin. Soriya stepped toward the forest only to find Takeo blocking her way.

“No. You will face me.”

Relentlessly, he pressed her with a series of kicks and jabs designed more to distract than injure. Hastily, she retreated, dodging each strike by a mere finger's width. She made no attempt to block his attacks, relying on sheer speed and reflexes to avoid him. Tiger-like, Takeo stalked her, planning his next series of moves. He was in no hurry—the longer he held her here, the more time Yuichigo had to corner their quarry.

Idly, he feinted a punch at the kunoichi's face, then dropped to the ground in an attempt to sweep her legs out from under her. She failed to succumb, arching backwards into a handspring to gain some distance from him. Snidely, he remarked, “If you want to stop Yuichigo, you'd better make your move. He's fast. It shouldn't be long now.”

Soriya didn't spare breath for a reply. The lack of response annoyed him. With a burst of speed, he flanked her, launching a punch-roundhouse kick combination at her head. She jerked away from his gloved fist, ducking under the arc of his leg at the last second. As his foot whistled harmlessly overhead, the kunoichi retreated once more.

Takeo paused uneasily. She'd just passed up the perfect opportunity to counterattack. It was unlike Soriya to stay solely on the defensive with him, especially in a situation like this. Strategically, it made no sense. She should be trying to take him out quickly in order to go to her father's rescue. So why did she not attack?

_Unless..._

The tiger-masked shinobi inhaled sharply, a grim smile twisting his lips beneath the mask. He jerked his head in the direction of the trees.

“Clever of you to split us up,” he acknowledged. Without further ado, he flung a handful of shuriken directly at the kunoichi's chest. Grinning sharply, she made no move to avoid them. The missiles struck dead center and the redhead's shadow clone vanished with a loud “pop.”

_First blood to you, Soriya. But now I know what you're up to. I'll be ready._

Aloud, he warned the unseen watcher, “Follow, but stay well back. She's taken Kanzin's form with the transformation jutsu. Yuichigo may already be incapacitated. Don't trust what you see.”

So saying, the black-clad operative leapt to the branches of the nearest tree, disappearing silently into the shadows.

Behind him, Enya rose from his concealment in the bushes. The kunoichi's revelations regarding Akira Kanzin disturbed him. The medic-nin understood why Soriya felt the need to intervene. But Takeo was persistent. He wouldn't quit unless given an order and Soriya was equally stubborn. She would hardly “stand down” while her father was killed. He hoped Kakashi and Ibiki-sensei showed up soon, before things got ugly.

Fervently praying the kunoichi hadn't done anything of a permanent nature to Yuichigo, Enya headed after the black-clad ninja. It seemed likely his services would be needed after all.

XXX

The moment Takeo engaged Soriya in hand-to-hand combat, Yuichigo leapt to pursue the fleeing psych-nin. Earlier, he'd picked up on Enya's unease regarding the tiger-masked shinobi's hostile attitude. He knew Takeo wanted a fight, but hoped the man would not get too carried away. Almost, Yuichigo wished their roles were reversed. He pitied the beautiful kunoichi.

But then again...perhaps it was better this way. The rat-masked ninja would make Kanzin's death as quick and painless as possible. He could do that much for the woman, at least.

Racing through the trees, he followed the man's tracks. He was headed straight for the river. Yuichigo knew Kanzin had eluded pursuit once by plunging over Ganji Falls. He had to prevent the man from using the same means of escape now. Catching a glimpse of his target up ahead, the ANBU operative summoned chakra. He vanished, reappearing a short distance in front of the startled man, who skidded to an abrupt halt. The roar of the waterfall crashed and churned just beyond the tree line, a mere twenty meters away.

_Too close, that._

Planting sandaled feet, Yuichigo smoothly drew a katana from the black sheath strapped to his back. The steel hissed menacingly as it cleared the scabbard. He held the blade level with the psych-nin's throat. In a voice devoid of emotion, the masked shinobi intoned, “Akira Kanzin. There is no escape. The Hokage has ordered your death on charges of treason, murder, and kidnapping. It is my duty to carry out your sentence. Justice will be swift and true, I assure you.”

Lightning flickered, illuminating Kanzin's face. His gray eyes were wide, the pupils dilated in fear. Thunder rolled overhead, competing with the continuous roar of the waterfall. Carefully, Yuichigo skirted the man's left side.

“On your knees,” he ordered, voice soft. “Face death with dignity.”

Panting heavily, Akira's legs gave way and he dropped to the ground, head bowed, left hand splayed in the moist earth. Hidden by the line of his body, the fingers of the psych-nin's right hand moved. Yuichigo readied his sword for the killing blow.

“May the gods have mercy,” he murmured.

The blade descended in a silver arc of light. The clang of metal echoed harshly amidst a shower of sparks. Yuichigo's eyes widened. The man at his feet vanished, replaced by the slender form of the redheaded kunoichi. She'd halted the deadly descent of the katana with her left forearm.

_Metal bracers concealed in the lining of the jacket. A risky maneuver._

His strike had parted the leather easily, but the armor below had held.

Lifting sultry gray eyes to his masked face, Soriya drawled in a low, decidedly feminine voice, “Sorry to disappoint you, but I have no intention of dying today—with dignity or otherwise. You'll have to forgive me.”

He watched, mesmerized, as the kunoichi's pupils seemed to swallow him whole. Yuichigo knew he should avoid staring into their stormy depths, but he could not seem to look away from the woman's alluring gaze. Suddenly, the scent of honeysuckle was everywhere. Soriya's lips curved in a slow, seductive smile.

Yuichigo swallowed, inhaling deeply. Lust flooded through him as his body responded to her power. He took an involuntary step forward, lowering his blade. He struggled to think past the haze of desire.

_How is she doing this? A mesmerization jutsu shouldn't be strong enough to hold me!_

Instincts screamed at him to get away; intuitively, he knew it would be unwise to let her touch him. But the woman's beautiful eyes and heart-shaped face held him fast.

“Come here,” she beckoned. Crimson tresses rippled around her, reaching out to entice him. In another moment, he would succumb.

_Too powerful... Can't...break free...of her!_

The shinobi's right hand tightened on the hilt of his sword.

_Need a distraction..._

In desperation, he turned the blade, slicing downward at his left hand.

The kunoichi _moved._

An instant before the razor-sharp edge kissed palm's flesh, Soriya gripped his bare forearm, stilling the blade's motion. Pressed against Yuichigo's back, her other hand cupped the curve of his jaw just under the edge of the mask. The pulse in his throat pounded against her palm.

“Uh uh uh,” she breathed in his ear. “I can't have you injuring yourself. Ibiki-sensei would have my head.”

Yuichigo's heart beat wildly as he hung in her grasp, utterly helpless to resist. In fact, he couldn't move at all.

_So strong! But how...?_

No one had told him she had such power. She was _inside_ his mind! Inwardly, he cursed Takeo and Morino. They'd surely known and had deliberately chosen to leave him in the dark. But why?

_It's nothing personal. The fewer people who know about me, the better, that's all._ The kunoichi's mental voice was sincerely apologetic. _I'm truly sorry about this, but I have no choice. Sleep well._

His katana tumbled from suddenly nerveless fingers. Valiantly, Yuichigo fought a losing battle against the downward press of his eyelids. The last thing he felt as the darkness of slumber took hold, was the touch of gentle hands easing him to the ground.

XXX

Kakashi paused on the tree limb, right palm resting flat against the trunk's rough bark. Soriya was nearby, he knew. The touch of her mind had been much clearer, stronger. From the brief contact, he'd gleaned that she was unharmed, but no more than that. She'd shut down the connection too quickly. It made him suspicious.

_Soriya, just what are you planning?_

A platinum brow slanted downward in a frown. He could tell Morino's squad had split into two groups. But which group should he pursue? He needed to speak to Morino—get the jonin to temporarily rescind the kill order. The slight creak of wood was the Copy Ninja's only warning. Instantly, he flung himself backwards, using chakra to hold his feet to the underside of the branch. Almost simultaneously, a dull “thwack” sounded as a kunai embedded itself in the trunk exactly where his hand had been.

“Nice try,” the Copy Ninja acknowledged, directing his comment to the leaves of a large oak fifteen meters away. “You almost got me that time.”

Ibiki Morino's disgruntled voice grumped, “Just what the hell are you doing here, Kakashi? You're _supposed_ to be with Soriya.”

The trademark black overcoat flapped behind the ninja, resembling raven's wings, as he alighted on the ground. He crossed muscled arms firmly over his chest. Never a very approachable man, the Head of the Torture and Interrogation Unit seemed particularly forbidding at the moment.

Kakashi recognized the concern beneath the older ninja's irritation. From his upside-down position under the tree limb, he shrugged.

“Something came up.” Somewhat ruefully, he admitted, “I didn't _want_ to leave her with Kanzin, but she didn't exactly give me much choice in the matter.”

Ibiki snorted. “So, Takeo was right after all. That girl...” He shook his head in vexation.

The masked shinobi's brow quirked in puzzlement. “I don't follow.”

“Forget it.” Instead, Morino asked, “What of the child?”

“Soriya sent me to retrieve him. He's safe at home,” the Copy Ninja affirmed. “As near as I can tell, the kidnapping was just a ruse to get me out of the way.” He sobered abruptly. “Morino-san. You've got to rescind the order of execution. Akira Kanzin should be brought before the Hokage. She'll want to hear his story. If you agree to this, Soriya won't resist. In fact, it's likely she'll convince Kanzin to come peacefully.”

Ibiki mulled over the Copy Ninja's words. He shrugged unconcernedly. “If needs be, we can work around Soriya. Takeo knows how to handle her power.” He held up a hand as the masked shinobi seemed about to protest. “But suppose, for argument's sake, you tell me why I should do this. Countermanding one of the Hokage's direct orders is a great risk. I will not take it lightly.”

Kakashi sighed, releasing his chakra-grip on the branch. A split-second later, he appeared before Morino, hands in pockets.

“I'm a bit hazy on the details, but apparently, Akira Kanzin is not Soriya's uncle—he's her father. And while he _is_ highly gifted, he's not entirely sane. Use of his empathic power during the Ninja World Wars damaged his mind.” Kakashi paused, observing the slight widening of the scarred shinobi's black eyes. The man's grim demeanor did not otherwise change.

“Kanzin admits to freeing Anji and using him to flee the village. He denies being a murderer, however. I'm not entirely certain about that last, but I'm inclined to think Tsunade should at least hear the man's story before passing judgment. For Soriya's sake, if nothing else. Kanzin claims he's ready to die, but wanted to tell his daughter the truth first.”

Morino considered. “You've met him. Is he a danger to us?”

The Copy Ninja paused. He had to phrase this carefully. “I believe that Akira Kanzin—the man—intends no harm. However, what little I saw of his power leads me to believe he cannot control it in volatile situations. Soriya attacked him to obtain information regarding Iori's whereabouts and he could not prevent his gift from trying to absorb her mind.” He frowned at the memory of the panicked fury on the kunoichi's face. “It almost overwhelmed her.”

“Wonderful,” Ibiki remarked sourly. “You're not making my decision easier, you know.”

Gravely, Kakashi added, “Kanzin left a letter asking me to stop Soriya from interfering in his execution. You know she won't just let him die—she sees too much of herself in him.” Softly, he entreated, “Someone is going to get seriously hurt here, Ibiki. Please. Call them off.”

As if timed for just that moment, a man's scream erupted, rising above the dull roar of the not-so-distant waterfall. It cut short abruptly as both jonin looked westward.

Ibiki grunted. “Sounds like the carnage has already started. Let's go.”

Without another word, the two ninja vanished into the treetops. Kakashi tried to dampen the fear that coursed through him.

_Please, Soriya, just don't kill anybody._

XXX

Soriya lay perfectly still, completely concealed from view. The roar of the waterfall pounded in her ears, drowning out all other sounds. Rolling stiff shoulders, she tried to relax. Cat's Eye was locked and loaded, clutched in steady hands, index finger resting lightly on the trigger. Silently, she offered a brief apology to the master weaponsmith. The crossbow would need to be broken down, oiled, and reassembled after such abuse. But realistically, she had no choice. With Takeo, she'd get only one shot. She could not afford to miss. Exhausted as she was, a one-on-one fight with the ANBU operative would be no contest. Aruka-sensei would just have to forgive her the weapon's ill treatment.

Soriya knew the tiger-masked shinobi would be expecting a trap. And unlike Yuichigo, who had been at a distinct disadvantage knowing nothing of her powers, Takeo suffered no such handicap. He understood the limits of her abilities well. Ruefully, she'd taken note of his attire: long sleeves, hooded shirt, trousers, gloves, and mask. He even wore black socks under his open-toed sandals. Not an inch of skin was exposed. Yes, he'd certainly come prepared.

Still, it had been two years since they'd last fought. She'd picked up a few tricks since then. And against Takeo, Soriya wouldn't need to hold back. Much.

Ibiki-sensei wouldn't be too concerned if she injured the arrogant ninja. Or vice versa for that matter, as long as they both survived. On occasion, she got the feeling their bloody battles afforded him some inner amusement, as if he were secretly laughing at them. Rarely had he intervened in a combat during her training. Doing so usually meant he was dissatisfied with the performance of a particular skill he had set her to master. She could remember distinctly the mere handful of times he'd stopped a fight when one of them seemed about to cross a line. Her lip curled. The line had been very fine, indeed. He would expect her to give Takeo a fight.

Casting a thin veil of chakra outward, the kunoichi waited for the tiger-masked shinobi's approach. She'd felt the demise of the shadow clone, so it shouldn't be long now. Slowing her breathing as much as possible, Soriya's finger tightened on the trigger.

XXX

Physical senses stretched to the limit, Takeo scanned the surrounding forest as he moved from tree to tree. Following Soriya's tracks was easy enough—she'd made them obvious, intending Yuichigo should catch her. Grimly, the shinobi spared a moment to pity the hapless ANBU operative. He probably hadn't known what hit him.

It had not been Takeo's intention to set the man up against the redheaded telepath. Her devious trick had proven very effective, and costly—for him. Now Takeo was headed into an ambush. He smiled grimly.

_Never a dull moment with you around, Soriya. I've missed that._

Pausing in the fork of a tree, the black-clad operative lifted his mask, revealing a face with high, angled cheekbones, dark, almond-shaped eyes, and a narrow nose. The mouth was generous, if slightly thin-lipped. It would have been a handsome face, had it not been for the arrogant expression that habitually marred the features.

Takeo's chin rose as he tested the air. Black eyes flashed in recognition at a familiar scent detected in the swirling breeze.

_Honeysuckle..._

He knew that fragrance well. And the jutsu that often accompanied its use.

Scattered droplets fell from the gray sky, accompanied by cool gusts of wind. This close to the river, water saturated the air, while a few kilometers away the ground was dry, cracked, and dusty. Takeo eyed the darkening sky with disfavor. Rain would not aid him in this situation. He needed to hurry, before the incoming storm rendered his heightened sense of smell useless.

Examining the ground, the ninja focused on another, less familiar scent. Concentrating briefly, Takeo's chakra surged and he nodded, satisfied. Heading toward the river, he followed Soriya's tracks. Yuichigo's were faint—mere hints of impressions rather than actual imprints. Still, Takeo could pinpoint the exact moment the rat-masked shinobi had spotted his target; the faint tracks vanished abruptly.

Maintaining concealment amongst the dense cover of wide, green oak leaves, Takeo advanced cautiously, scrutinizing the moist earth up ahead. The smell of honeysuckle seemed to be everywhere.

_So much for tracking her by scent._

He shrugged. It probably wasn't necessary, judging by the marks in the dirt. She'd be close by.

Soriya had stopped running, feet braced for attack as Yuichigo's light footprints appeared directly in her path. The depressions in the dirt in front of the kunoichi's feet spoke volumes.

_Ah, Soriya... Pretend helplessness in order to lure them in._

It was her usual method and it worked well. Yuichigo had moved into a swordsman's stance on the kunoichi's left side, never guessing he was falling right into her trap. Takeo wondered if the man had even gotten in a blow. The smaller footprints at Yuichigo's back argued against it. She'd discarded the transformation jutsu at that point. In his mind's eye, Takeo could almost see the events unfolding, down to the likely jutsu she had used to snare her victim. The scent of honeysuckle was strong.

He felt a twinge of guilt. Perhaps he should've warned Yuichigo about the kunoichi's particular talents? He gritted his teeth. No. His orders had been quite clear. No one was to know about Soriya's Kekkei Genkai. But, while he understood the need for such a precaution, it was now moot. Because of the kunoichi's too-clever deception, Yuichigo had discovered her secret the hard way. He sighed. There was nothing he could do about it now. Let Morino deal with the man—if Takeo found him alive.

He wondered what she'd done with the body. He doubted she'd killed the ANBU operative. There was no smell of blood anywhere that he could detect. Not that the lack entirely ruled out the possibility—not where she was concerned. But where had she hidden him? Uneasily, his gaze stretched upwards, encompassing the fast-flowing expanse of the Ganji. Surely, she had not...

Before the cold weight of dread could settle on his shoulders, the cry of a nearby lark drew Takeo's attention. Leaping to a higher, slightly closer branch, he spotted his own shadow clone. Head down, it clung, squirrel-like, to the broad trunk of a tree. Silently, the dark form indicated the fern-like shrubbery covering the ground. From his hiding spot, Takeo's sharp eyes could just make out the edge of a bracered arm protruding from the greenery.

The shadow clone reached out, parting feathery fronds. Beneath them lay a rat-masked face with spiky brown hair. Lifting the mask, the clone revealed Yuichigo's slack-jawed visage. Pressing two fingers against the man's neck, the doppleganger paused a moment before giving the “thumbs up” sign. Takeo's shoulders sagged in relief. Before the clone could drag the unconscious shinobi from the bushes, a smooth, feminine voice interjected, sounding mildly amused.

“Really, Takeo. A shadow clone? You of all people, should know better. But I'm flattered you took the precaution. Not that it matters.”

Fast as a striking snake, the woman's arm flashed forward, burying a kunai in the base of the clone's spine. It vanished with a “pop.” Soriya stepped gracefully out from behind the tree, eyes fixing unerringly on the limb where the tiger-masked shinobi crouched. Long red hair stirred slightly, independent of the steady breeze. The scent of honeysuckle washed over him. She was just as he remembered.

_Damn her!_

He fought the urge to breathe deeply.

“Come,” she prompted. “Let's do this. You've been wanting a shot at me out from under Ibiki-sensei's watchful eye. Well, here's your chance. Unless you've reconsidered?” The kunoichi paused, a delicate brow arched inquiringly.

When Takeo offered no reply, she shrugged. “No? Ah well. One can always hope.” With feigned innocence, she asked, “Tell me, how's your head these days? Any headaches? Sleeping well at night? No bad dreams, I trust.”

The black-clad shinobi stiffened. Sarcastically, he countered, “Why, I'm just fine. How about you? How's the arm? And your nose? I seem to recall breaking them the last time we fought. You should really be more careful about protecting your face—looks are important in your line of work. Although it seems like you've healed up well enough. A benefit of having your own personal medic-nin dancing attendance on you,” he sneered.

Soriya sighed audibly, but did not answer. Takeo let his eyes rove over the kunoichi's form. It was an old game between them, this taunting. Trying to make the other one angry enough to do something stupid. Apparently, she wasn't of a mind to play. He watched from cover as the telepath took a step forward, beckoning him with a graceful hand.

“Takeo. Come here.”

Grunting slightly, he fought the pull of her power. Lacking direct eye contact, the genjutsu's effect was weakened, though still surprisingly formidable.

_She's grown stronger._

The spell would have snared many a lesser shinobi. But, with concentration and effort—if a bit more than he would have liked—Takeo could ignore the compulsion. He'd had practice aplenty under Morino's tutelage, although admittedly, his early failures to resist the kunoichi had been quite humiliating. They'd only made him more determined, however.

For the first time, he wondered if there had been more to those sessions than simply preparing Soriya for her mission. The Hokage was wily; she planned for all contingencies. Had she foreseen such a situation as this? Takeo frowned. He'd been trained to counter the kunoichi's power and he would do so—but on terms of his own choosing. After all, they had an old score to settle. Perhaps today would be the day.

Firmly, he advised, “You're wasting your time. That won't work against me. I'd save my strength if I were you.” He waited calmly as she measured the resolve in his tone. After a moment, she shrugged slender shoulders, letting the jutsu lapse. The powerful yearning tugging at him faded.

“Suit yourself.”

“I plan to,” Takeo stated flatly, dropping to the ground the instant she conceded. “Don't expect me to hold back!” he warned, hurling a kunai before his feet touched earth. It would have speared her in the left shoulder had she been there to receive it.

She was not.

Black eyes tracked the kunoichi as she launched into a diving roll, fingers flying through the seals of an earth style jutsu. He recognized the spell, leaping away just as a gaping hole opened up underneath him. In retaliation, Takeo cast a Wind Shards jutsu, sending jagged daggers of air at the kunoichi. At the last second, she raised the dirt in front of her as a shield. A storm of thumps sounded as the wind blades slammed into the earthen barrier.

“Still quick on your feet, I see,” Takeo commented.

Crouching behind the makeshift wall, Soriya shot back indignantly, “What, did you think I'd grown soft these last two years?”

Takeo smirked from behind his mask. “No, but then, neither have I.”

Suddenly, roots erupted from the ground at the kunoichi's back. They surged, wrapping around booted calves, twining upwards to imprison her arms. Bound in place, Soriya struggled to reach the coiled dagger wrapped around her boot.

Stepping closer, Takeo scrutinized her carefully. After a moment, he sighed.

“How tedious of you, using the same trick twice.”

At the tiger-masked shinobi's command, a thick root wrapped around the kunoichi's throat. Almost negligently, he gestured. The audible crack of bone and subsequent popping sound as the clone vanished did not quite disguise an ominous whistling hiss. Too late, Takeo recognized the sound of a crossbow being fired. He staggered sideways, burning pain ripping through the back of his left thigh.

_From behind me? But...how?_

Whipping out a kunai, he whirled toward the river, but the abrupt movement was more than the injured leg could bear. It crumpled, dropping him to one knee. He grunted sharply from the jarring stumble. His leg felt as though it were on fire.

The kunoichi emerged from the waters of the river, sodden hair hanging in her face, obscuring one eye. In her right hand, she held a small crossbow. Chuckling darkly, she responded to his previous comment, “Whatever works, Takeo...whatever works.”

Through a haze of pain, he tried to concentrate. The water had effectively masked the redhead's scent, rendering him unable to find her by smell. But how had she avoided being swept away by the current?

“How—?” he ground out, teeth clenching against the throbbing in his thigh.

“How did I keep from being swept over the falls? It's a secret,” she winked at him impishly. “A new jutsu I've picked up recently and was able to modify. Maybe I'll teach it to you sometime—if you ask me nicely. How did you know it was another clone?”

He grimaced behind his mask. “No smell of Yuichigo on her,” he grunted. “I knew you'd taken him down, so there should've been.”

She shrugged. “An oversight.”

Placing the emptied crossbow on the ground just outside the tree line, Soriya straightened, removing her jacket. Takeo supposed he should be grateful she wasn't planning to shoot him again, but the sight of her bare arms presaged a far more insidious type of attack. He had to do something quickly if he wanted to keep her out of his mind. Reaching down, he grasped the end of the shaft lodged in the thick hamstring muscle. Panting heavily, Takeo steeled himself, then tugged on the bolt. He nearly blacked out from the wave of pain that crashed over him. Biting off the end of a sharp scream, he struggled to focus past the dark spots swimming in his vision.

“I wouldn't do that, if I were you,” Soriya's tone was clinical. “It's a four-pronged quarrel—you'll only tear yourself up. Let Enya take it out later. I deliberately missed the bone, so you should heal quickly.” She advanced on the kneeling shinobi.

Swallowing back the sour taste of bile, Takeo fought to ignore the stabbing pain in his leg. If she touched any part of him skin to skin, the battle was as good as over. He tried to think of something—anything—to distract her. Voice tight with pain, he croaked out, “Since when do you carry a damned crossbow?”

Soriya shrugged, slicking wet hair back from her face with both hands. “It was meant as a gift for Emiko.”

There was something in her voice that Takeo could not decipher. The throbbing in his left leg was getting worse, making him feel light-headed. Idly, he wondered if she'd nicked an artery. There was little external bleeding; the bolt effectively plugged the wound.

Well, he'd know soon enough, if he passed out. Blearily, he risked a glance at the kunoichi's face. He was surprised to see a twinge of guilt cross her features.

“Sorry about this, Takeo,” she offered sincerely. “I'm too tired just now to fight you fairly, and I can't afford to lose. Do yourself a favor for once and give in gracefully.”

“Ha!” he exhaled sharply. “That's rich advice, coming from you!”

A quick grin flashed across her face, gone like the lightning that flickered overhead. Low, booming thunder followed, temporarily drowning out even the noise of the waterfall. The wind rose around them, scattering fat drops of rain haphazardly. A few strands of damp crimson hair blew across the kunoichi's face.

_“Touché,”_ she said, then called chakra.

Gently, the power trickled from her, enveloping him like a blanket. He was surprised at how soothing it felt. Comfort was not something he associated with her, but he found himself desperately wanting to sink down into that welcoming warmth. _Come,_ it seemed to say, _lie down here and rest your hurts._

It would be easy. So easy to succumb.

He bit down on the inside of his mouth instead.

Just as the fingertips of her right hand brushed the surface of his mask, power flooded through the ANBU operative, numbing the pain of his injuries. Smacking her hand aside with a backhanded blow, Takeo lunged upwards at the kunoichi, slashing with his kunai. Caught by surprise, she raised an arm in defense, jumping back hastily. A thin stripe of blood beaded up on the flesh of her left forearm. Drawing her own kunai, Soriya dropped into a defensive stance. Her lips formed a thin line as she appraised him. A powerful aura shimmered around the shinobi, causing the very air to thrum and vibrate.

“So. You've dared the Gates.”

He didn't flinch at her accusation and she sighed. “I just _knew_ it wouldn't be that easy. All right, Takeo. How many? Just how far do you want to push this? Think carefully before you answer. Neither of us may like the result.”

He slid into an attack stance replying, “I'll take that chance.” After a moment, he added, “Three.” He felt a surge of satisfaction as her face paled.

“Three Gates,” she murmured. “I suppose you've blocked the pain from your leg? Do you think that's wise?”

In answer, Takeo shrugged, shifting his weight from leg to leg. The injured limb held, although he knew he'd pay for it later. Pain was the body's warning system—it was not to be overridden and ignored lightly. But right now, with chakra coursing through him, he just couldn't bring himself to care.

Perhaps today would be the day they settled things, after all.


	12. Chapter 12

Soriya stared at the black-clad ninja. His aggressive posture radiated determination and eagerness.

_So, you want your pound of flesh, do you?_

The kunoichi's lips thinned.

_Just what will it take for you to let go of the past, I wonder?_

Aloud, she asked, “So tell me, Takeo. Say you win here. Beat me to a pulp and complete the mission.” She could not bring herself to say “kill my father.”

“Will that do it? Assuage your wounded pride? I've apologized as well as I know how, but it's never been enough for you. What more do you want?”

He paused, considering the question. Soriya wished she could see the expression on his face. The shinobi's shoulders dipped slightly, hesitant, as if Takeo himself were not entirely sure of the answer. Softly, he mused, “It is amazing to me, that after all the hours we've trained together, and with a gift such as yours, you still have no idea. No idea at all what you've done to me.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You honestly have no clue.”

“Perhaps if you would just _tell_ me!” Soriya exclaimed, exasperated. “We could move past all this!” Awkwardly, she ventured, “I know what I did hurt you. The class assignment—taking Mei's form. It was wrong of me to deceive you that way. Then later... I've tried to make it up to you. What more do you want from me?” she demanded.

Takeo was silent. After a moment, he replied cryptically, “Something you can't give, more's the pity. It's not your fault, I know. You can't help it. And therein lies the crux of the problem.”

“I don't understand you!”

“No.” He shook his head. “And you never will. I can't explain it.”

“You mean you _won't_ explain it,” she accused.

He shrugged. “If you prefer.” Wryly, he added, “I do have _some_ pride, wounded though it may be.”

Soriya lifted her chin. “So, then. Where does that leave us?”

“Right here. Right now,” he responded gesturing around them. There was something in his voice—regret?—that she couldn't define. “Maybe if you can get past my defenses, you'll find the answers to your questions.”

Her eyes narrowed. “A challenge, Takeo? I've always tried to respect your privacy during our battles, keeping to surface thoughts, going just deep enough to incapacitate you. Are you saying you _want_ me to read your mind?”

“I'm saying,” he replied patiently, “that if you truly wish to understand the nature of my grievance, it's the only way. I will not yield otherwise.” Drawing his shoulders back, the shinobi resumed his arrogant, mocking tone. “But all that hardly matters. You won't be able to do it—at least, not today. Really, Soriya, you look like hell.”

He struck without warning, the speed of chakra-enhanced movement faster than her eyes could track. Acting on sheer instinct, she reared back, getting an arm up just in time to deflect the fist flying at her face. Instead of smashing her nose _(not again!)_ his gloved hand grazed along Soriya's cheekbone, just missing her right eye. Staggering back, she crossed both forearms over her chest, intercepting the follow-up kick to her torso. She grunted as the force of the blow knocked her backwards.

“Come on, Soriya. Don't disappoint me. It's been _so_ long. Surely you can do better than this,” he chided.

Lifting a hand to her bruised cheek, the kunoichi observed, “Always the face with you, Takeo. I wonder why that is?” Blood welled from the cut on her forearm, trickling down into her palm to drip onto the ground. She clenched sticky fingers around the red fluid. Unfortunately, it was not her own blood she needed. Still...

Sheathing the kunai, Soriya brought slender fingertips together. Steeling herself, she burst through the first Gate.

“Crimson Blades!” she cried, flinging her left hand outward. Blood flew in a wicked spray, sharpening to fine needles. They zeroed in on the masked shinobi, who dodged to his right. Unexpectedly, the razor-thin needles changed direction, lancing along the ninja's left side, slicing through the fabric of his shirt.

Clutching bloodied ribs, Takeo rasped, “That's more like it! That's the kunoichi I remember!”

The redheaded jonin huffed, shoring up new-found strength. The chakra-controlled blood was effective, but tiring. _And of finite supply,_ she thought ruefully.

“I'll take you apart piece by piece if I have to,” she told him. Scarlet hair rose, independent of the rising wind at her back. Lightning flashed and thunder answered almost immediately, as if attuned to her emotions. There was something wild and freeing about fighting Takeo. A testing of limits, against an opponent who understood her capabilities. Anticipation rose within her.

“Come, Takeo,” she challenged, “If you've got it, bring it.”

So intent was she on the tiger-masked ninja, Soriya barely registered the arrival of two highly interested watchers.

XXX

“I'll take you apart piece by piece if I have to.”

The Copy Ninja checked sharply at the kunoichi's tone of voice. Sensing the ominous build up of chakra, he and Morino had approached the area at a dead run, fearing the worst. The enormous amount of power flowing around and between both combatants confirmed it, in Kakashi's mind. They had dared the Gates. Such a thing was expressly forbidden in duels between Leaf Village shinobi.

_Soriya, what are you doing?_

He hardly recognized the beautiful kunoichi. Crimson hair drifted around the woman's slender form like fire. Under her right eye, a purpling bruise marked the pale skin. Her left arm and hand were covered in blood. Yet she seemed fiercely jubilant as she faced down the ANBU operative. Defiantly, she dared him, “Come, Takeo. If you've got it, bring it.”

“With pleasure.”

A streak of shadow flashed past Kakashi's line of sight, reappearing directly behind Soriya.

“Too slow!” the man shouted, kunai slashing downward at the woman's unprotected back. In horror, Kakashi watched as the kunoichi spun at the last second, accepting a light scoring across her shoulder blade from the tip of the knife. She didn't flinch at all, turning leftward into her attacker, one hand bracing the other as she jabbed viciously upwards with the heel of her palm. White light flashed at the point of contact as she cried, “Second Gate—open!”

The blow caught the tiger-masked ninja under the chin, rocking his head back and cracking his teeth together with brutal force. Momentarily stunned, Takeo staggered, catching his balance awkwardly on the injured leg. Capitalizing quickly, the kunoichi snapped a front kick up into his face. A gloved hand caught her left boot an inch from his chin, forcing it down and away. Suffused with power, Soriya's entire body rotated in mid-air, right leg whipping around in a windmill-like motion. She flexed the foot as it neared his face, freeing an inch long blade concealed in the boot sole. Barely parrying with his kunai, Takeo fired off a burst of chakra from his palms, throwing the kunoichi backwards. She stretched, vaulting into a back handspring, landing several meters away.

Kakashi was taken aback by the feral gleam in her eyes. Outside of genin training and the chunin exams, he'd never seen Soriya fight in earnest. He'd assumed that, as a deep cover operative, her tactics tended more toward subtlety, relying on genjutsu or ninjutsu, rather than the physical brutality of taijutsu. Watching her now, however, it was obvious the kunoichi was no stranger to this type of combat. Still, the man she faced was gifted. Maybe too much so for his own good. He took a step toward the kunoichi. Morino gripped his arm.

“It's unwise to disturb their concentration. If we go blundering in now, we risk making things worse.”

Kakashi eyed the older ninja coolly, pointedly dropping his gaze to the offending hand. Impassively, Morino stared at him, then loosed his hold.

Dryly, the Copy Ninja observed, “I don't know what kind of training you put them through, but it already looks pretty dire from where I'm standing. They've opened the Gates. And not just one, from the looks of it. There's a reason it's forbidden. I don't know how good your man is, but Soriya killed twenty men with a mere thought after opening four Gates. We should stop this now, before it's too late.”

“Relax,” the grim-faced shinobi advised. “Watch, and be ready to act. Be assured this is not the first time they've used the Gates against one another. I know it's forbidden. But there is a line they do not cross. Mostly,” he conceded, turning to watch the battle with a critical eye. “It amuses me to see them approach that line again and again. There's a history there—some old grudge that lies between them. Something from their chunin days, I believe.” Slyly, his eyes slid over to the Copy Ninja. “I've often wondered about the particulars. Watch closely, and you'll see it. When the time comes to act, you'll know.”

The two combatants closed and broke apart with the ringing of metal as their kunai clashed. The air whistled and thumped with the sounds of strikes evaded, blows landed. A hard, steady rain began to fall, soaking the ground under their feet.

Kakashi touched the headband slanted across his brow.

_A history, huh?_

He wasn't reassured by Morino's words. Taijutsu was one thing, but Soriya's Kekkei Genkai was quite another. There was no defense against it. If Takeo pushed her too far and she lost control, they could all die. And he knew she had to be tired, despite the chakra that practically resonated throughout the clearing. Really, she hadn't had a proper rest since assisting at Sumiko's birth.

The Copy Ninja wondered what Morino would do if he interfered with the battle. Using the Sharingan, he could do so with relative ease. He frowned. The scarred shinobi hadn't said whether he intended to cancel the kill order, although Kakashi was inclined to believe he'd already decided to do so. Otherwise, he'd be helping Takeo right now. He glanced at the man's impassive visage. Or perhaps not. He didn't understand Morino's motivations well enough to be confident he was reading the inscrutable man correctly.

_Now I understand Soriya's frustration with him._

Unhappily, Kakashi turned back to watch the deadly dance play out between the woman he loved and the man seemingly intent on killing her. He would wait just a bit longer before taking matters into his own hands.

XXX

Soriya panted, crouching wearily on her haunches. A steady stream of rainwater dripped into her eyes and down her nose. Gingerly, she probed at a loose tooth with the tip of her tongue, inelegantly spitting a gob of blood and saliva onto the wet grass.

Gods, she was tired.

A half-second slower, and Takeo's foot would have crushed her nose. She knew he targeted it deliberately, to mar her looks, although why he should want to do so eluded her. Clearly, he got some kind of perverse enjoyment out of it, but at the moment, she was too fatigued to care.

At least the tiger-masked shinobi seemed to be slowing as well. They'd been at it for almost ten minutes—an eternity for combat between high-level jonin. The problem was, they knew each other's moves too well.

_Familiarity breeds...stalemate._

Grimly, Soriya conceded that two Gates were not going to be enough. She could open the third Gate at will, but would that do it? As for the fourth Gate... The telepath wasn't certain she wanted to go there. While doing so would certainly win her the battle, the danger—both to herself and others—was immense. If she lost control of the power...

Takeo was an ass at times, but she didn't want him dead. Not to mention Kakashi, Enya, and the others. If she breached the fourth Gate, they would all be at risk. No. She dared not gamble with their lives that way. She would not fall victim to the destructive power of her gift. Not as her father had done. The Hokage wouldn't need to order her death, should that ever happen.

Soriya supposed she should be grateful Ibiki-sensei had thus far chosen to remain neutral while she battled his operative. Idly, she wondered if Kakashi had had something to do with that. More likely, the scarred shinobi had told the Copy Ninja to stay out of the fight, tacitly implying he himself would refrain from interfering.

_That would be just like him._

Regardless, she needed to settle this soon, one way or the other.

The tiger-masked ninja spoke, refocusing the kunoichi's wandering attention. “Tired?” he jeered. “One more slip like that, and I'll have you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered irritably, wiping water out of her eyes, “you're not looking so great yourself. That leg is practically a dead weight.” She nodded toward the thigh with the protruding crossbow bolt.

She'd focused the majority of her attacks on the wounded leg, forcing Takeo into awkward adjustments in order to protect it. Gradually, the masked shinobi's maneuverability appeared to be flagging. On the last pass, she'd almost swept his good leg out from under him, but at the last moment, he'd shifted his weight to the injured limb and it had held. The kunoichi's overextension had been a calculated gamble, albeit one that resulted in a swift kick to the face and a loose tooth, rather than the take-down she'd intended. Even now, he was just slightly quicker than she. It was proving to be enough.

“You're right, my leg can't take much more,” Takeo admitted candidly. “So let's finish this.”

She tensed at the resultant chakra surge. Gray eyes widened in shock as she recognized the sequence of hand signs for a deadly ninjutsu.

_No!_

Desperately, Soriya broke through the third Gate, power flooding her body. Gesturing sharply, she summoned a wall of water just as the colossal three-headed Dragon Fireball slammed into it, vast orange flames hissing and popping furiously. The fluid barrier wobbled precariously under the inferno's blistering force. Not trusting the tenuous shield to hold, the kunoichi dropped, flattening herself to the ground.

Mistake.

She sensed, rather than saw, movement behind her. Rolling instantly, Soriya intercepted the shadow clone's diving lunge, grabbing its outstretched wrists. Thrusting her feet upwards into its gut, she used the clone's own momentum to fling it over her head directly into the liquid barrier. The dark form vanished as the wall collapsed, drenching Soriya and the ground with cold water. Remnants of the Dragon Fireball sizzled past, sparking hapless trees afire until the steady downpour quenched the scattered flames.

Hurriedly springing to her feet, the kunoichi met Takeo's charge. He launched a flurry of kicks and punches, driving her backwards over the soggy ground. Soriya's world narrowed to the blur of fists and feet.

Block, dodge, parry.

He allowed no time for a counterattack. She could barely defend against the savage blows raining down on her.

Then it happened. A minor slip in the muck, but it cost the kunoichi dearly. Retreating from the masked shinobi's unrelenting attacks, Soriya's right foot lost purchase, sliding backwards in the mud. Takeo pounced, hooking her forward leg behind the knee, dragging the jonin off-balance. Before she could recover, he thrust stiffened fingers into the soft flesh of her throat. She gagged and went down, face flushing an alarming shade of red. Almost negligently, Takeo kicked the kunoichi onto her back, dropping down to straddle her gasping form. Warding off a panicked blow, he wrapped both hands firmly around her throat. Bucking furiously, she scrabbled at black-gloved fingers, trying to break his grip. Curiously, she found she could still draw breath. Though Takeo's fingers tried to squeeze, they kept sliding on her neck inexplicably.

_The choker..._

Unfortunately, Takeo realized the cause in the same moment.

“How annoying,” he sighed, jamming the heel of one hand up under Soriya's jaw, slamming her teeth together with an audible snap. Holding the kunoichi's mouth closed with one hand, he cruelly pinched her nose shut with the index finger and thumb of his other hand.

“No biting,” he told her, watching with a detached air as her face purpled, gray eyes bulging in distress. She shook her head violently, trying to dislodge him, hands clawing at his mask in a desperate attempt to reach the face underneath. Calmly, Takeo leaned back, keeping just out of reach.

Vision fading to black at the edges, Soriya tried to concentrate. She was so tired. Dimly, she wondered if her father had gotten far enough away... Strength drained from her arms and the kunoichi's right hand dropped, fingers brushing the fletching of the quarrel buried in the back of Takeo's thigh. Tiny lights sparkled before her eyes. Summoning the last dredges of strength, Soriya's hand tightened on the bolt. Ruthlessly, she ripped it free from the encasing flesh.

Takeo let out a tortured scream, releasing the kunoichi abruptly. Clapping a hand to his mangled thigh, he fell sideways onto the ground, writhing in agony. Soriya sucked in a huge lungful of air and rolled sluggishly to her belly. Dizzy from lack of oxygen, she lay stunned, the rain plastering crimson hair to the mud and blood on her body. She had no thought of attacking, focusing solely on drawing great, heaving gulps of air. Just now, the kunoichi doubted she could muster the strength to stand if her life depended on it. Gracelessly digging trembling elbows into the soft earth, she crawled away from the grievously injured man, putting some distance between them.

Unfortunately, the brief reprieve didn't last. Pulling himself upright, Takeo violently ripped the tiger mask from his head. Soriya blanched at the face beneath. The wounded shinobi's fury pounded her senses like a tidal wave. Never had she seen him so enraged—he hardly looked human. His murderous intent paralyzed her as he slowly drew a kunai from the sheath at his thigh.

“Bitch!” he breathed, “I'll _kill_ you!”

Time slowed to a crawl. As though it were happening to somebody else, Soriya watched events unfold in slow motion. Dimly, she could hear the beating of her heart.

_Ba-bump._

Takeo's hand drew back for the throw. At this range, he wouldn't miss.

_Ba-bump._

The steel blade sped through the air on a deadly trajectory. Too late, Soriya reached for her own kunai.

_Ba-bump._

A dark shape suddenly materialized in front of her. Belatedly, Soriya registered the ringing sound of metal being deflected.

_Ba-bump._

“That's enough,” Kakashi ordered harshly, crouched protectively in front of the stunned kunoichi.

_Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump._

“You!” Takeo bristled.

Soriya felt chakra surge heavily between them. After a few tense moments, the injured ninja slumped back in the muck, killing intent dissipated. To be replaced by...despair? Likely, he recognized the futility of further action.

Time resumed its normal flow.

Before Soriya could relax, hairs tingled on the back of her neck. A feeling of dread gripped her. _Where--?_

“Look out!” she cried, dilated eyes turning fearfully toward the river.

Like some devil from the depths of Hell, Akira Kanzin rose up from the water, poised on a cresting wave. An aura of darkness surrounded him, coalescing into grasping tentacles that reached out, seeking her fellow shinobi. His eyes were completely black.

“No, don't!” Soriya screamed, horror-struck as malevolent tendrils of power hungrily stretched toward Kakashi and Takeo.

Kakashi reacted instantly, dodging a whiplike chakra thread. Reaching down, he jerked the kunoichi to unsteady feet, yanking her out of the path of a fast-moving tendril. Hampered by injuries, Takeo wasn't so fortunate. The thick tentacle curved, wrapping around the shinobi's forearm, dragging him forward. The awful scream that ripped from his throat rang in Soriya's ears.

_Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump._

With a strength born of fear, she pulled free of Kakashi's grasp, shoving him behind and away from her. Summoning every last bit of chakra, Soriya sundered the fourth Gate.

The resultant shock wave blasted from her, ensnaring everyone in the immediate vicinity. Pure, white light surrounded them all, easily disintegrating the tendrils of blackness binding Takeo. Suddenly freed, he slumped to the ground, dark eyes wide with awe and not a little fear. Recoiling as if in pain, the psych-nin's malevolent aura flinched back from the bright touch of Soriya's power. Everyone froze, helplessly enmeshed in her gift, like flies trapped in honey. Abruptly, the rain stopped as chakra sizzled ominously between telepath and empath.

Shimmering with power, red hair weaving madly around her, Soriya lifted a hand. She understood everything now. Everything. She felt only a distant pain as she spoke, calm voice echoing eerily in the suddenly still space.

“Father. Stop. This is unnecessary.”

“No! You don't understand! They want to destroy you!” he responded feverishly. “Leaf Village has taken enough from me. They must die!”

Implacably, she denied him. “No, Father. They are _mine.”_ She raised a palm, reshaping the power flow to form a translucent barrier, keeping the darkness at bay. “I will not let you harm them.”

Disbelieving, he argued, gesturing wildly at Takeo, “But that one hates! He meant to kill you!”

She turned to appraise the kneeling ninja. He lifted his chin, struggling to hold his maltreated body upright. Almond-shaped eyes met hers unwaveringly. No coward, Takeo. After what seemed like hours, but was in fact, mere moments, Soriya lowered her gaze. “Yes, Father. He hates. But it is not that simple. He loves, too.” She raised sad eyes back to the man staring at her with defiance—a pride she now knew hid desperate, bittersweet longing. “It is a fine line,” she murmured softly, gaze wandering over his unmasked face. “A very fine line.”

Soriya knew she had wounded him deeply by targeting him for the class assignment years ago. She'd done it on a whim, mainly because he'd been rudely dismissive of an empath's power, and of her, in particular. It had pricked her pride; clearly, an object lesson was needed. Besides, Soriya hardly dared go after the one she _really_ wanted for the assignment. Although she was eighteen—almost nineteen!—Kakashi still thought her a child. The silver-haired jonin was far too stubborn to cave in to his feelings.

Soriya knew Takeo planned to target Mei, the petite, raven-haired kunoichi who had been his genin teammate. Although he wasn't particularly demonstrative, it was only too obvious to an empath of Soriya's ability that he was smitten with the woman. But Soriya knew the beautiful kunoichi felt only the affection of longstanding friendship for the serious, dark-eyed ninja. So she had no qualms about choosing him as her mark.

Snaring Takeo had been easy enough. She'd always had a knack for the transformation jutsu and was a fairly good actress, to boot. She'd lured him in, letting him think he was the one doing the seducing. It had worked perfectly, just as she'd planned. To a point.

She'd intended to retain Mei's form throughout the, er, consummation of the mission, leaving the arrogant shinobi none the wiser. She was looking forward to Mei's clobbering him the next day when he tried to pick things up where they'd left off. It wasn't very nice of her, Soriya conceded, but Takeo's disdainfully superior attitude deserved a good humbling. She'd clue Mei in beforehand, so maybe the kunoichi wouldn't kill the big jerk. What she hadn't counted on, however, was losing control of the transformation jutsu.

She'd already been feeling extremely guilty because of the sincere emotions emanating from the besotted shinobi. Thinking she was the woman he'd been infatuated with for so long, he'd gone out of his way to please her. He'd been a gentle and careful lover—her first experience with a man.

Unexpectedly overwhelmed by the genuine, if misguided affection, and consumed by mounting pleasure, Soriya began to lose control. Her concentration wavered, distorting the disguise as chakra rippled unevenly throughout her body. Caught in the moment, the kunoichi could hardly bring herself to care. Takeo hesitated, confused, but by then it was too late. She crested the heights of passion, shattering the illusion. The intensity of her release pulled him over the edge with her. The look of betrayal on his face when she opened her eyes...

Well, that look had stayed with the kunoichi a long time. Afterwards, they hadn't spoken. She'd merely dressed and left.

In the days and weeks that followed, Soriya often felt the dark-haired shinobi's eyes on her. They never talked about what happened, and she found herself wishing he would yell at her, berate her—say _something_ to validate the guilt she felt. She wanted to apologize, but didn't know how. How did one make amends for such an intimate betrayal?

And then there was Kakashi. She didn't even want to think about what he would say about her actions. She recalled, with a mixture of anger and embarrassment, the last argument they'd had. He hadn't liked the idea of her pursuing this particular type of training in the first place.

_Your motives are misguided, Suki. You cannot become a true shinobi if you are solely driven by the need for revenge. That way lies madness._

They hadn't spoken since. After the incident with Takeo, she'd taken to shadowing the Copy Ninja occasionally—a risky proposition at best. Out of necessity, she'd kept her distance. She toyed with the idea of attempting to seduce him, but could not work up the courage to act. She wasn't certain she could handle a rejection from the silver-haired shinobi.

One night, she'd been feeling particularly lousy about their quarrel, Takeo, and everything else in her life. Spotting Kakashi socializing with other jonin at a local bar, she'd perched on the roof of the building across the street, settling down to wait. Soriya had no plans to actually confront him—she wouldn't until she could be relatively confident he'd succumb. Why did he have to be so damned principled where she was concerned? She knew he desired her—Soriya's gift didn't lie about such things. Maybe if she got him drunk?

Immersed in random musings, the kunoichi was therefore unprepared when the Copy Ninja emerged from the bar, an attractive, giggling woman hanging on his arm. To Soriya, the sight was like a punch in the gut.

_What did you think, idiot? That he was a monk? He reads erotic novels, for cryin' out loud! He's not going to sit around pining for you!_

Not wanting to watch Kakashi walk the giddy woman home, Soriya turned, racing silently over the rooftops. She wanted to run until she was exhausted. She was tired of thinking. Sick and tired.

Halting above a small restaurant and bar where she and her fellow chunin occasionally hung out, Soriya considered. Maybe a drink would help. A good, stiff drink to keep her from imagining the things Kakashi was probably doing right now with that, that vapid, inane... _lucky_ woman. She sighed.

Yeah, a drink was just what she needed.

Sitting alone at the bar, Soriya had drowned her sorrows quickly enough. Swirling the last of her whiskey sour in the glass tumbler, she stared at the melting ice cubes. A loud, annoying voice disrupted her contemplations.

“Hey, honey. Lookin' for some company?”

Without turning around, the kunoichi muttered, “Get lost, creep. I'm not in the mood.”

The drunk halted, brought up short by such an abrupt refusal. Behind her, Soriya could feel his anger rise. She sighed inwardly. A fight with some ignorant civilian was the last thing she needed.

_Better cut this short before it escalates._

Before she could turn around, an unwelcome voice sounded over her left shoulder.

“I think the lady wants to be left alone.” Takeo's voice was level, containing just a hint of menace.

Whatever the intoxicated man saw in the dark-haired shinobi's face was enough to deter him. Instead of aggravating the situation, he shot the kunoichi a dirty look, then ambled down to the far end of the bar where he proceeded to order another drink. Takeo took the bar stool next to her.

“That's your third one,” he commented, dark eyes sweeping over her to settle on the mostly finished drink in her hand. “Don't you have anything better to do?”

Soriya eyed him warily. She hadn't realized he was even in the bar. She must be drunker than she thought. Flippantly, she answered, “What are you, my mother? What do you care?”

“I don't, particularly,” Takeo replied evenly. “But the Hokage doesn't like it when we get into bar fights, especially with civilians. Even cretins like that guy,” he nodded toward the drunk who was currently sidling up to his next prospect, an intoxicated blonde holding a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

“Yeah, yeah,” Soriya waved a hand dismissively. “I was just about to handle it when you jumped in with your 'manly threatening glare' thing.”

“Is that so?” His lip curled derisively. “Well, if I'd known you had things under control, I wouldn't have bothered. I suppose I should have realized. You're a pro at handling men, after all.”

She stiffened. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Takeo shrugged an elegant shoulder. “Just what I said. You certainly got what you wanted from me easily enough. Although, at the time, I could've sworn you hadn't done that before. Ah, well,” he mused philosophically, “it's not the first time I've been wrong.”

Soriya stared at him, forcing herself to take slow, even breaths. The alcohol running through her blood urged her to punch him in his so-smug face. Fortunately, her brain still retained a modicum of self-control. Too bad it didn't extend to her mouth.

“Fuck you,” she said, stepping down from the bar stool unsteadily. “I don't have to listen to this. I'm going home.”

Unfortunately, her legs didn't agree to cooperate, buckling unexpectedly as she turned toward the door. The room tilted alarmingly and the kunoichi reached out, grabbing for something—anything—to stay upright. To her everlasting mortification, what she found was the cloth of Takeo's olive green vest. His hands settled at her waist, holding her up.

“You're drunk,” he snorted disdainfully. “You won't get far like this.” He sighed resignedly, hauling her to his side so he could drape her right arm over his shoulders. “Come on.”

“What are you doing?” Soriya asked suspiciously.

“Taking you home, oh ungrateful one,” he replied sarcastically. “What do you think I'm doing?”

She eyed him skeptically. “Why?”

“Because I enjoy lugging around smart-mouthed kunoichi who can't hold their liquor. Now shut up and let's go.

“Which way?” he asked, once they had navigated the front door of the bar and made it into the street. Except for the few drinking establishments still open at this hour, the buildings lining the walkway were dark.

“This way,” Soriya nodded, stumbling slightly as they set off in the direction of her tiny apartment. It held far less appeal than Yori's place out in the country, but it was closer. She'd rented it temporarily while undergoing her current training, simply because it was more conveniently located. Kakashi had recommended the place, she remembered.

Thinking of the silver-haired shinobi stirred up all the feelings she'd had earlier. Flashing back to the image of him leaving the bar with the unknown woman, Soriya felt unreasonably angry. She was _not_ a child! Why couldn't he see that? Suddenly, the kunoichi halted in the middle of the street.

“Stop.”

Takeo looked down at her. “What's wrong?”

“I don't want to go back to my apartment.” Gray eyes gazed up at him through long lashes. “Take me to your place instead.”

He stiffened in surprise, peering down at her with narrowed eyes. Shoulder-length black hair tickled her arm where it rested around his neck. She remembered it was silky soft to the touch.

In a slightly strained voice, Takeo asked, “Now why would I do that? Is this another 'assignment' of yours?”

She stared at him. “No. About that...if it helps at all, I _am_ sorry. I shouldn't have used you that way.” Luminous eyes darkened. “Consider this payback, if you like.”

He held still a long moment, contemplating her offer. She felt her cheeks flush under his searching gaze. Abruptly, he turned, tugging her down a side street.

“This way,” Takeo muttered, under his breath. They cut through a small alley, halting at the back of a tan-colored three-story building. Nodding at it, he indicated the last balcony on the third floor.

“Ready?”

She nodded, looping both arms around his neck. The raven-haired shinobi lifted her, gathering himself for the leap. Using a chakra burst, he propelled them both upwards, easily vaulting the metal railing. Standing in front of the glass door to the small apartment, Takeo slowly let the kunoichi's legs drop, sliding her down his body. Soriya's heart pounded loudly in her ears as he leaned forward, reaching behind her to open the door. He closed his eyes, inhaling the sweet scent of honeysuckle.

She thought he sounded gruffly reluctant as he offered, voice low, “If you don't want to do this, it's not too late. Say the word and I'll take you home.” He paused, then added wryly, “I won't have it said I take advantage of drunk young women.”

It touched her that he'd asked, giving her the chance to back out gracefully. Moistening lips that were suddenly dry, Soriya shook her head.

“I'll stay.”

His eyes darkened and he reached out, placing both hands on her shoulders. “Good,” he said, nudging her backwards into the room. Sliding the door shut with a foot, Takeo pressed her up against the wall beside the door, twining his hand in crimson hair. Mouth hovering above hers, he whispered huskily, “You do owe me, after all.”

Suddenly there was no more talking.

She thought that he would be rough with her—and he was—but not in a way that caused pain. Instead, he brought her to the edge almost ruthlessly, holding her there on the precipice. Through the haze of alcohol and lust, it came to her that he was waiting, searching for something—some expression in her face. But with pleasure thrumming through her body, Soriya couldn't bring herself to wonder at it. All she wanted to do was feel. Long lashes fluttered closed as she finally let go, crying out a name in her passion.

It was not Takeo's.

She felt him flinch above her, as if in pain. Coming back to herself abruptly, the kunoichi tried to apologize. Frustrated anger poured off him in waves as his lips crashed down on hers, silencing her. Quickening his pace, he pounded into her furiously, until finally, he stiffened, groaning against her mouth with his release. Slowly, he withdrew, rolling to the side, facing away from her on the small bed. No one spoke for a long moment. Tentatively, Soriya reached out a hand to the olive skin of his shoulder.

“Takeo...” she began, palm hovering just above his flesh.

“Get out.” His voice was flat, emotionless. He did not move.

“I'm sorry,” she tried again.

“Didn't you hear me? I said get out of here. Go home. Get lost. I don't care what you do, just don't do it here.”

She stared down at him in shock, hand fisted against her chest. After a moment, she slid off the edge of the bed. Quietly, she gathered her clothing and dressed. All of a sudden, she felt stone cold sober. Turning toward the balcony, she opened the glass door. Glancing back at his still form, she murmured, “I'm sorry,” before disappearing out into the night.

It was fortunate, then, that she saw little of him after that. The chunin course ended a few days later and Soriya was frequently away from the village on assignment. In fact, it wasn't until her subsequent promotion to jonin status more than a year later that the kunoichi found herself in Takeo's presence once again.

The meeting had taken place at Ibiki Morino's behest. The Head of the Torture and Interrogation Unit had summoned her to his office in order to introduce the ANBU operative with whom she would be training. It had been an unpleasant surprise for both of them.

At first, Soriya's inclination was to reveal their sordid history to Ibiki-sensei in the hopes that he would find a replacement for the now-overtly disdainful ninja. Takeo had lifted his chin in challenge, arrogant black eyes daring her to speak the words. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of thinking she feared him, she'd bitten them back instead. Childish, perhaps. But, from a training stand point, it had actually worked out for the best.

The ponytailed ninja cut her no slack at all. She'd had the bruises, broken bones, and various other injuries to prove it. She was definitely a better shinobi because of his persistence. Their combats were not all one-sided, however. During the early months, when everyone was still learning the limits of her abilities, Takeo, more often than not, paid the price for the knowledge gained. After he had fallen victim to her mesmerization jutsu for the fifth time, Ibiki-sensei had scowled, practically accusing the tiger-masked shinobi of secretly _wanting_ to succumb. That had infuriated Takeo so much so, that during their next match, he loosed a giant three-headed Dragon Fireball at her—from which she was lucky to escape with only a minor scorching. The training ground had not fared so well; it had been completely wrecked.

Ibiki-sensei had not been pleased.

After that, fire jutsu was strictly forbidden during their combats. But the mesmerization jutsu had not worked on Takeo from that day forward.

All this flashed through Soriya's mind in moments as she gazed at the kneeling man. Truly, she had hurt him more than she knew. Before the telepath could go to him, Kakashi moved to block her way. Looking up at his troubled face, she placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Soriya—” he cautioned.

She felt his concern, and something more. Uncertainty. She knew he had just barely made it in time to deflect the thrown kunai. He didn't understand why she would risk giving Takeo another opportunity.

“It's okay,” she told him. “He won't hurt me. Not now. Because, finally, I understand.” Skirting around the Copy Ninja, she walked over to stand before the injured shinobi.

“So. Now you know,” he panted, face taking on a sickly hue from blood loss. “So what? It changes nothing.”

Slowly, the telepath reached out a hand. Fingertips tenderly brushed his cheek.

“Takeo... I'm so sorry. I never realized...”

He laughed, a short, ugly sound. “Now you know why I always go after your face. I can't seem to get it out of my head. Even in dreams—” he broke off abruptly.

She sighed, gray eyes filled with gentle sadness. “I've done you an injury that I cannot heal. You have every right to hate me. I didn't realize, but I should have. For that, I'm truly sorry.” A ghost of a smile graced her lips. “Seems like you were right about empaths not being so great after all.”

“That's just you. Dense as a ton of bricks,” he joked, grimacing as a wave of pain swamped him. Wobbling with dizziness, the injured shinobi put out a shaking hand to catch himself as he lurched forward. Soriya was there instead.

“Enya,” she called, cradling the now-shivering ninja in her arms.

The medic-nin stumbled out from the tree cover, dropping quickly to Takeo's side. Soriya released the wounded man reluctantly, lowering him to the ground.

“You better not die, you big jerk.” She stood, staring down at him somberly before turning away. “I'll never forgive you.”

He blinked, but didn't have the energy to laugh. “Jus' like you,” he mumbled. All of a sudden, he couldn't get his eyes to focus. Still, he couldn't let her have the last word. “I'm the one...should be...forgivin' you...” He felt warmth on the back of his thigh, then...nothing.

Soriya closed her eyes for a moment when he passed out. “Enya, please. Do what you can for him.”

She did not look back to see the medic-nin's nod of affirmation. He was already deep in concentration sealing torn blood vessels, knitting muscle, and repairing damaged nerves. The kunoichi locked gazes with Kakashi. She knew his mismatched eyes hid pain and hurt. He'd grasped the undercurrents of the situation well enough—she'd caught the flash of emotion as jealousy flared. She stared at him mutely, not knowing what to say. She felt his struggle for control; now was not the time.

_Later..._ Her mental voice was a promise.

Soriya turned to face her father.

“You don't want to do this,” she said, carefully picking her way toward him over the soggy ground. “You don't have to.”

“Ah, Daughter,” the psych-nin smiled sadly as Darkness gathered thickly around him once more, “I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I do.”

He struck like lightning, targeting the last person she expected.

XXX

Ibiki Morino was not pleased.

When Takeo cast the Dragon Fireball, he had instantly recognized it for the distraction—however deadly—it was. Even so, the look on his face could have curdled milk. Use of fire jutsu against Soriya was _strictly_ forbidden. Takeo _knew_ this. The given reason being that lower level fire jutsu were a waste of time against her water ninjutsu, while the more powerful spells were just too destructive for mere training exercises.

However, it was understood, if not openly acknowledged, that the true reason for the ban was simply this: burn damage was far more difficult to heal and carried a greater risk of scarring than other types of injury. The first and only time Takeo had cast that particular jutsu, it had taken Enya the better part of two painstaking weeks to completely heal Soriya's wounds. And she had been only mildly singed by the flames.

After that, the Hokage had made it patently clear the kunoichi was not to be allowed to suffer such damage during routine training. She was far too valuable; permanent disfigurement would greatly hamper her usefulness.

Ibiki winced inwardly. Oh yes, Tsunade had been quite vocal on that point.

So, he had laid down the law. Takeo, contemptuous as ever, contented himself with other forms of ninjutsu, and, of course, taijutsu. Genjutsu, for the most part, was ineffective against the telepath—no great surprise there. It was not Takeo's strength, in any case.

Watching the two of them fight was always fascinating. Ibiki could tell Soriya held back, even now. Although the tiger-masked shinobi had forced her to match him Gate for Gate, she resisted taking that final step to end the battle. Out of fear, he supposed. She refused to risk all.

_Stubborn child._

Ibiki was therefore unsurprised when Takeo finally dropped the kunoichi with a sharp jab to the throat. Still, even in the midst of being smothered, the telepath hadn't cracked. The fourth Gate remained intact.

The scarred shinobi smiled grimly—he'd told Tsunade so. She worried needlessly over Soriya's control. Ibiki knew better. Even though the tension between Soriya and Takeo had been patently obvious—from that very first day in his office—Ibiki had maintained that Soriya wouldn't lose it. She'd never kill Takeo, even if it meant getting beaten into unconsciousness. Twice, it had. She never even penetrated the man's thoughts very deeply. Ibiki wondered if the telepath avoided doing so because, secretly, she feared what she might find. He snorted. Her willful blindness amazed him at times. In any case, she had never given Ibiki cause for concern.

Takeo, however, was another matter.

Not for the first time, the scarred shinobi questioned his decision to look the other way regarding the mysterious grievance between the two jonin. He should have insisted Soriya come clean at the initial meeting, but when she appeared determined to keep silent, he let it slide. Once the training began and Takeo understood the full extent of the kunoichi's abilities, it seemed too late to revisit the decision. He supposed he could have substituted Kaito or Emiko in Takeo's place, but as her former genin teammates, they were far too close to Soriya emotionally. That did not suit the Hokage's purpose. Also, although they had been capable chunin, neither would have provided Soriya an adequate challenge. Frankly, the kunoichi was simply on a whole other level.

No. For her training, the arrogantly brilliant, grudge-holding, sharp-tongued ninja would just have to do.

It was clear to Ibiki that most of the ill feelings were on Takeo's side. Three times, he had found it necessary to intervene in their combats. Each time, it had not been Soriya who'd lost control. Dispassionately, he watched as the kunoichi's hand found the bolt in Takeo's leg. Knowing them as he did, Ibiki could predict, almost down to the second, the exact moment Takeo's control snapped.

“Kakashi!” he barked.

An unnecessary warning, as it turned out. The Copy Ninja was already moving to deflect the kunai. Ibiki felt chakra flare between the two men as Takeo probed the older jonin for weaknesses. Finding none, he sagged back with an expression of... Ibiki would have called it utter dejection had he seen such a look on someone else's face.

_Interesting..._

The sudden awareness of imminent doom approaching distracted him from further musings. He didn't need to hear Soriya's alarmed shout to know the danger came from the river. Strangely, the tingling power felt vaguely familiar, while at the same time, disturbingly different. Tainted. Checking sharply at the sight of the man shrouded in darkness, Ibiki's eyes narrowed. To simply say Akira Kanzin was “not sane” seemed like the grossest understatement. He ground his teeth in frustration. Saving the maddened psych-nin might well prove impossible. He winced at Takeo's awful scream, then braced himself as Soriya finally sundered the fourth Gate.

Power flowed over and through him like a tidal wave, utterly unstoppable. This, then, was what Tsunade feared. He stiffened, quailing slightly at the kunoichi's mental touch. Thankfully, she did not linger.

Wearily, he closed his eyes. She knew all, now. All.

This was a test. Of control. Of sanity. Of loyalty. Ibiki had argued against it, believing such a trial both unnecessary and unfair, but Tsunade had disagreed. Her cautious practicality could be decidedly cruel at times. Still, she did have the safety of the entire village to consider. He sighed. At least, thus far Soriya had not failed.

_Troublesome child._

She seemed determined to make him worry. Out of the corner of his eye, Ibiki caught the look on Kakashi's face. The elite jonin seemed tense, silver brows slanted downward in a frown as Soriya reached out to touch Takeo's face.

_Ahh..._

Now he understood.

_Careful, child. Trouble for you there..._

Suddenly, Ibiki felt the weight of Akira Kanzin's steady, unblinking gaze. The psych-nin's corrupted aura flinched away from the bright light of Soriya's barrier. Still, the scarred shinobi experienced a sensation of subtle pressure, as though someone were pressing a finger directly to the center of his forehead. He found he could not look away from the dark-haired man with the sad, gray eyes.

_When the time comes, don't hesitate. Do what is necessary._

The scarred shinobi blinked, staring at the man in shock. Had the words been spoken inside his mind? But that was impossible! Kanzin was not known to be telepathic. Perhaps he'd imagined it.

Before Ibiki could decide how to react, Soriya summoned Enya to Takeo's side. Standing, she turned to face Kakashi, the silent strain between them obvious. Finally, the Copy Ninja seemed to master himself and the kunoichi looked away. Uneasily, Ibiki watched as she stepped toward her father. He had a bad feeling he knew what was coming.

“You don't want to do this. You don't have to.”

The pleading in her voice cut him. Ibiki's stomach tightened as he readied himself to act.

“Ah, Daughter, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I do.”

Ibiki _moved._


	13. Chapter 13

Kakashi's jaw clenched when Takeo brought Soriya down with a sudden blow to the throat. Grimly, he prepared to intervene. He knew the fight was over the moment the tiger-masked shinobi pinned her. Still, some instinct kept him frozen in place, anxiously gripping the hilt of his kunai. His patience was rewarded seconds later, when Soriya unexpectedly turned the tables on her attacker, leaving the man screaming in agony, hand clutching his mangled thigh.

Still, Kakashi did not relax. Judging by the battle he'd witnessed thus far, he thought it unlikely Takeo would accept defeat, despite the crippling injury he'd been dealt.

Unfortunately, his instincts were correct.

The palpable rage emanating from the wounded man as he hauled himself upright gave the Copy Ninja just enough warning. By the time Ibiki shouted, he was already moving.

Takeo's deadly outburst came to a halt with the shrill “ting” of metal as Kakashi parried the thrown blade. He thought he saw more than surprise and frustration in the man's eyes at his interference, although he hesitated to put a name to an emotion so briefly glimpsed. Dropping into a defensive stance, the Copy Ninja braced himself as the livid shinobi unleashed a vicious blast of chakra.

Grunting slightly, Kakashi summoned his own chakra, easily withstanding the crushing pressure directed his way. Confronted by his unyielding demeanor and weakened from blood loss, Takeo quickly realized the futility of further challenge. Abruptly, his anger dissipated, along with the outpouring of chakra.

Kakashi straightened. He couldn't shake the feeling that the man's exclamation and subsequent attack had been personal—some kind of testing. He had no time to contemplate the possible meaning of it, however.

At Soriya's panicked cry, the Copy Ninja spun just as Kanzin unleashed his power. Using the Sharingan, Kakashi tracked the flailing tentacles, anticipating their erratic movements with time to spare. Dodging a questing tendril, he reached out, dragging the still-recovering kunoichi out of harm's way. She flinched at Takeo's anguished scream as the injured shinobi failed to avoid the Darkness.

Connected by the blood bond, Kakashi felt the sudden terror that flashed through her, coupled with a fierce desire to protect. Still, he was unprepared when her arm twisted roughly, breaking his hold. Forcefully, she shoved him away, reaching deep within herself. Before he could even call out her name, she sundered the fourth Gate.

The immense discharge of power rocked the Copy Ninja, making him stagger. He spared a moment to recover lost footing. This close to Soriya, it was difficult to breathe, the air heavy and thick, like molasses. A visible white aura surrounded the kunoichi where she stood, long strands of hair lashing the air like crimson snakes. Grimly, she faced her father.

Kakashi swallowed. Remembering Yukio Ryuji's fate, he was suddenly grateful she'd pushed him away. Unbidden, a memory surfaced: Kakashi self-assuredly telling the telepath he didn't particularly fear her, as she'd given him no reason to do so. Soberly, he recalled the words she'd offered in return.

_You don't know enough to fear me. Not yet. But eventually, you will._

Prescient words, those.

His heart pounded loudly in his ears. He wanted to go to her, but some deep-seated animal instinct for self-preservation kept his feet stubbornly rooted to the spot. He knew just how much she'd held back against the tiger-masked shinobi and wondered if Takeo realized it as well. She'd waited an awfully long time to open the third Gate. Kakashi understood why Soriya hesitated to breach the fourth Gate, but her earlier procrastination mystified him. Why would she be reluctant to defeat the ANBU operative?

The Copy Ninja's attention was drawn sharply back to the present by Soriya's movement. She turned, awarding Takeo her full scrutiny. The look in her eyes...

His hands balled into fists. He would not fear the woman he loved! Stepping forward, Kakashi blocked the kunoichi's path to the kneeling shinobi.

“Soriya—” he stopped, unsure what he wanted to say.

_Who is this man, to you?_

He held stock-still under the hand she rested on his shoulder. He could feel power thrumming through her fingers, though the touch itself was gentle.

“It's okay. He won't hurt me. Not now. Because, finally, I understand.”

The words themselves made no sense to the Copy Ninja, but as she moved past him toward Takeo, the tenderness with which she stroked the injured man's cheek spoke volumes. Such a touch might be granted between old lovers. An unfamiliar sensation gripped him. Unexpectedly, he felt his anger rise. He attended carefully to their conversation, silver brows drawn down in a frown.

Listening to Takeo clarified some things. Watching him battle Soriya, Kakashi had wondered whether the ANBU operative was deliberately missing chances to take her down, in favor of glancing blows to her face. At the time, he'd put it down to Takeo's leg; perhaps the injured limb hampered the shinobi more than he let on. The lapses had been subtle and not something the casual observer would notice, but they were glaringly obvious to an experienced fighter of Kakashi's caliber. His lips thinned behind his mask. Clearly, Takeo had unresolved feelings for the beautiful kunoichi.

_Does she love him?_

The question nagged at him. Jealousy was not an emotion with which he had much experience. But Soriya had penetrated his coolly aloof facade. He found himself dreading the answer; the fear made him angry.

_I won't give her up, not to anyone!_

When she turned back to him with luminous eyes, he knew she'd felt his every emotion. She said nothing, just stood before him, waiting. He struggled with the anger and hurt, forcing them down. She needed him now. The rest would have to wait.

_Later..._

The brief whisper in his mind eased the Copy Ninja somewhat. He took up a position on the kunoichi's left flank as she approached her father. The roiling mass of Darkness surrounding the psych-nin thickened ominously. Kakashi tensed as Soriya spoke. He knew Kanzin did not plan to leave here alive. Surely, the man wouldn't force Soriya to kill him? Doing so might well destroy her. He'd be damned if he let that happen. Better to take Kanzin out himself and deal with the consequences afterwards.

When the words of apology left the psych-nin's mouth, Kakashi knew he was out of time and options. He drew a kunai back for the throw.

Without warning, a dark form barreled into him from the right.

_Wha--?_

The momentum of the blow pushed him back several meters. Mismatched eyes narrowed as he recognized his attacker.

“This is not for you to do. Stay out of it,” Morino warned him, leaping back from the Copy Ninja warily. He took care to stand between the silver-haired shinobi and the battle beginning to rage behind him.

“There's no time! We have to stop her!” Kakashi's eyes widened at the tableau unfolding over Morino's shoulder. He could just see Soriya's face. Suffused with power, her eyes were completely white—inhuman-looking. She lifted a hand as Darkness surged toward her.

Time stood still as the powers of father and daughter collided. The resultant ear-splitting boom deafened the Copy Ninja momentarily. He saw Soriya's lips move, shaping two words, but could not make out the sounds past the ringing in his ears. Unlike her previous encounter with the psych-nin, this time the telepath seemed to have the upper hand. Roiling Darkness grappled with pure white light, but could not gain a foothold, sliding ineffectually against the smooth brilliance of Soriya's chakra. Slowly, steadily, she drove it back toward her father.

Kakashi marveled at her new-found strength. He wondered if it was due to the forcing of the Gates, or simply because she acted out of compassion. He knew she desperately wanted to save the maddened psych-nin, despite the danger he posed. And for the moment, it seemed as though she held the advantage. The last time they'd clashed, Soriya had been enraged, angry. Perhaps such negative emotions were easier for the Darkness to exploit?

Whatever the reason, Kanzin had to know she wouldn't be able to bring herself to kill him. What did he intend?

Suddenly, Kakashi caught a glimpse of movement from the trees off to the right.

_Ibiki..._

It all became clear. Unseen by the combatants, Morino's shadow clone raised a small crossbow, drawing a bead on Kanzin. Kakashi thought the psych-nin smiled sadly as the clone's finger tightened on the trigger. Simultaneously, Soriya flung her previously bloodied arm in its direction.

Jagged crimson streaks struck the shadow clone square in the chest, destroying it instantly. The crossbow thudded heavily to the ground.

“Ibiki-sensei,” Soriya's voice was a warning. “Do not interfere.” She did not turn.

_So much for that idea._

Kakashi grimaced. He'd hoped to avoid taking on the kunoichi directly, but it looked like he was going to have no choice. He stepped toward her, hands beginning the seals of a jutsu.

_Not yet._

The unfamiliar voice sounded in his mind. Suddenly, he could not move. Ibiki seemed to be affected as well. Kanzin's voice broke the silence.

“Suki, I told you: I've made my peace with this. You must let me go.”

Stubbornly, she shook her head. He sighed.

“I had thought to spare you this, but if you refuse to listen, so be it. I, too, can open the Gates.”

The air thickened ominously around the psych-nin, water churning beneath his feet. The hairs on the back of Kakashi's neck rose. What power! Surely, Soriya couldn't match this awesome strength. Fear gripped him as he realized he was wrong.

_No! Soriya!_

The Fifth Gate shattered.

Screaming in agony, Soriya fell to her knees, ethereal wings bursting forth from her back. Gasping for breath, she struggled painfully to her feet, face hidden by writhing strands of crimson. Diaphanous wings spread wide, lifting the kunoichi high into the air.

Knocked flat by the explosive blast, Kakashi could only stare, awestruck. He'd heard of such manifestations of power, but had never seen one quite like this. She was...beautiful... Like some celestial being descended from the heavens.

Soaring out over the water, Soriya aimed directly for the psych-nin, white-hot power erupting from her palms. The blinding light sped toward the man dexterously balanced on the waves. At his gesture, an opaque sphere of Darkness surrounded him, deflecting her attack. His voice sounded from inside the barrier.

“How far will you go to stop me, Daughter? Will you surrender all? I cannot live this way any longer. I ask again: let me go.”

The spear of pure white light that formed in her hand served as the telepath's only reply. Blinking past tears, she cast the power like a javelin, striking the orb dead center. Instead of puncturing it, the light spread out, surrounding the dark barrier in a fine net. Connected to her palm by a thick, shimmering strand of chakra, Soriya poured power down the connection, attempting to shatter the sphere by sheer force of will.

Kakashi watched the kunoichi expend a torrent of chakra with mounting anxiety. Just how strong was the suicidal psych-nin? And how much more energy could Soriya afford to exert? Finding he could move again, the Copy Ninja climbed to his feet. Even if Kanzin were prepared to burn himself out, surely he didn't want his daughter to suffer the same fate?

If Kakashi could only get Soriya to look at him...

_Get ready._

He started as a weight settled on his upper back. Bathsheba flicked green eyes at him briefly. Digging sharp claws into the Copy Ninja's vest, she balanced on his shoulder. Remembering the silent words he'd seen Soriya utter, Kakashi guessed, “She summoned you, earlier.”

The feline blinked slowly in answer, slitted gaze fixed on the battle raging over the river. Her small body tensed.

_Any moment now..._

Then he felt it. A pulsing that resonated deep within his body. It sounded almost like...like... Suddenly, he knew.

_A heartbeat..._

His eyes widened in horror as the steady throbbing faltered.

The kunoichi's face paled. Her arms trembled with fatigue as large gaps appeared in the net surrounding Kanzin's barrier. Translucent wings fluttered weakly, fraying at the edges. The Darkness, recognizing its chance, surged.

“No!” Kakashi shouted, running toward the kunoichi. He was not going to make it. She was too far away.

A small, feline form appeared in front of Soriya, directly in the path of the ravenous onslaught. Crouching splay-legged, brown-ticked fur standing on end as he levitated above the water, Ra appeared twice his normal size. Large, pointed ears lay flat against his skull as the cat snarled his defiance, baring needle-like teeth at the grasping tentacles. Heedless of the warning, Darkness surged, slamming into an invisible barrier.

The sonic boom that resulted rocked the immediate area, temporarily displacing water, air, and even earth. By some miracle, the worst of the destruction missed the stretch of shoreline where Kakashi's group gathered, though river water rained down on them copiously. Numerous surrounding trees were knocked flat or snapped in half by the backlash of power. Only by applying chakra heavily to his feet, did the Copy Ninja maintain any sort of footing at all.

Frantically, Kakashi searched the sky for the kunoichi. Dazzled by the incandescent flare of power, he failed to locate her. Ra and Kanzin squared off against each other, seemingly unaffected by the blast. The Copy Ninja blinked, trying to clear his vision. Where was she?

_There._ Bathsheba's voice sounded in his head, showing him where to look.

His heart caught in his throat. Soriya, gossamer wings shredded and useless, dissipating even as he watched, plunged into the fast-flowing current of the Ganji. Barely conscious, the kunoichi struggled simply to hold her head above water.

_She cannot cast a jutsu. She has nothing left._

Hardly hearing the feline's dire pronouncement, Kakashi leapt to the river's edge. Using a chakra burst to propel himself, the elite jonin dove out into the rushing water. Bathsheba released him at the last moment, levitating above the river's surface. Strong strokes brought the Copy Ninja quickly to the kunoichi's side. He pulled her to him before she sank. He could feel the first tremors of shock run through her body.

“Soriya!” He gripped her chin, trying to elicit a response. Gray eyes stared at him blankly, but he could tell she was not really seeing him. He thought she tried to speak, but a convulsion rocked her and she bit her tongue instead. Inorexibly, the current dragged them toward the edge of the cliff.

_K-Ka-kashi..._

The weakness of her mental voice frightened him more than anything else. Tucking her body more firmly against him, he shushed her, “It's all right. I've got you. Don't give up on me.”

_Love...you..._

“Suki! Take a big breath and hold on tight.”

Closing his eyes, the Copy Ninja perfectly recalled and enacted the sequence of hand signs for the Water Slowing jutsu. It was awkward to perform, with Soriya in his arms, but when the insistent pull of the water slackened, he opened mismatched eyes knowing he'd succeeded. Not a moment too soon, as they shot out over the edge of the cliff and gravity took effect.

Holding tightly to his precious burden, Kakashi concentrated on maintaining the jutsu. It was more difficult than he'd anticipated, between the roar of the waterfall, his stomach trying to climb out of his throat, and the fear gnawing at him. Had he been too late? Slowly, he ticked off the seconds in his head.

_Seven, eight, nine..._

The kunoichi's hands spasmed behind his neck. He felt another tremor overtake her and he clutched her quaking form more tightly.

_Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen..._

He pressed outward with chakra, trying to keep the water from her face. Blood dripped down the kunoichi's chin as her teeth chattered uncontrollably. Quickly, she inhaled a short, gasping breath, sensing the impending impact.

_Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three..._

Then there was no more counting. Water closed over their heads as they plunged violently into the river basin.

The shock of entry momentarily stunned the Copy Ninja, tearing the kunoichi from his grasp. Desperately, he reached for her, strands of long hair slipping through his fingers. Submerged in the dark, churning water, he could see nothing. Terror seized him, but before he could panic, Bathsheba's cool voice sounded in his mind.

_There, to your left._

Groping blindly, he grabbed what he thought was an arm. He pulled her to him, disturbed by the odd limpness of her body. She offered no resistance.

_The force of impact knocked her unconscious. Get her out quickly. I will bring the doctor._

Before Bathsheba could finish the thought, Kakashi's hands were moving. With the intense clarity of focus that comes to one in a life or death situation, he ran through the seals of the Water Dragon jutsu. Hugging Soriya tightly, he applied chakra to the fluid suddenly given form beneath his feet, maintaining a grip on the surging water beast. The translucent wyrm rose up from the bottom of the falls, flowing speedily to the surface. It burst forth, cresting high above the expanse of the basin, arcing toward land at the Copy Ninja's silent command.

Holding the kunoichi, Kakashi leapt from the back of the liquid Dragon, avoiding the deluge it made as it crashed against the muddy shore. Hurriedly, he laid the unconscious woman out on the ground face-down and pressed firmly on her ribcage. Clear fluid poured from the redhead's mouth, but she did not stir. Again, he applied pressure, forcing more liquid from her water-logged lungs. Desperately, he glanced upward, looking for help.

_Where the hell is Enya?_

In the graying light, her lips had a bluish tinge.

“I'm here!” Enya called out, dropping down from one of the outlying trees. Quickly, he raced over to Kakashi.

“Let me,” he advised, placing his hands on Soriya's back, right above where her lungs would be. Pale green light suffused his palms, causing water to erupt from the kunoichi's lips in a violent torrent. Gasping weakly, she choked, sucked in a shallow breath, then vomited again. Tears leaked from beneath her closed eyelids. Kakashi's own eyes were none too dry as she heaved and wheezed in front of him. He'd almost lost her...

But it was too soon to relax. Just as her breathing began to stabilize, chakra drain set in, causing her muscles to lock rigidly.

“Turn her!” Enya ordered, helping the Copy Ninja roll the kunoichi to her back. Seconds later, she began to convulse uncontrollably. It was all Kakashi could do to hold her down.

“Enya!” he grunted, hooking a leg over the woman's shuddering body.

The medic-nin gripped Soriya's face in steady hands, the pale green aura from his fingers casting a translucent glow over her flesh. Blue eyes narrowed in concentration.

“It's bad. She's burned the chakra network. There are places...” He swallowed, then added baldly, “I don't know if I can repair the damage.”

Kakashi said nothing, staring down at sightless gray eyes. So beautiful, those eyes. He wouldn't let her go without a fight. Keeping his left forearm braced across her seizing body, Kakashi placed the palm of his right hand on her forehead. Applying pressure, he turned her face slightly, so that she gazed into his eyes. Slowly, the Sharingan began to spin.

“Suki! Look at me!” he implored, the urgency of his tone the only sign of how close he was to despair. If he could use the hypnotic power of the Sharingan to calm the tremors...

_Here. Let me._

Bathsheba appeared suddenly at Enya's side. Delicately stepping up to balance on the kunoichi's heaving stomach, she stared down at the convulsing woman, green eyes wide. Almost instantly, the tremors rocking Soriya's body subsided. Enya let out a gasp of amazement.

“She's healing the Fifth Gate!”

Aloud, Bathsheba advised, “I will repair the Gate of Closing. It is the most badly damaged. You must close and repair the other four Gates. I cannot do that and suppress the convulsions at the same time.”

Enya nodded in understanding. Tightening his grasp on the kunoichi's face, he inhaled a deep breath, redoubling his efforts. Green light flared under his palms. With fierce, unwavering concentration, he stared down at the unconscious woman. The minutes ticked by.

Anxiously, the Copy Ninja watched as Enya's hands slowly, painstakingly trailed down Soriya's throat, pausing first to rest between her collarbones, then eventually moving on to settle at her breastbone. Sweat dripped from the medic-nin's brow, sliding from his temple to plop onto the kunoichi's bare shoulder.

There was no discernible reaction from the redhead, although the tremors had mercifully ceased. Still, she was alarmingly pale, color barely returned to her lips. Her wide, staring eyes had closed, long lashes resembling bruises against the alabaster cheeks.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the medic-nin sagged back on his haunches, panting heavily. “There—that's all I can do. The rest is up to her.”

Kakashi looked at him sharply. Bathsheba hopped off the kunoichi's limp form. Sitting up, the Copy Ninja gathered Soriya into his arms.

“What does that mean, exactly?”

Enya sighed, passing a hand over his visibly weary face.

“Bathsheba and I have healed the physical damage, and I've replaced enough of her chakra to prevent death from chakra drain, but...” He shrugged uneasily. “The mind is a tricky thing. The strain she's put on herself... It's like I told you before: she has to _want_ to survive.”

Behind his mask, Kakashi's mouth firmed. She couldn't leave him this way. Not now. Not when they hadn't had time for so much. He wouldn't allow it. He intended to have a lifetime of loving her ahead of him.

As he thought it, the slender form in his arms shifted slightly. Lashes fluttered, then opened, gray eyes blinking owlishly up at the overcast sky. Finally focusing on the face staring intently down at her, she offered him a faint smile. Cradling her more closely, he saw her struggle to shape a word. No sound emerged, but he knew she spoke his name.

“Shhh,” he murmured, resting a fingertip against her lips. “Don't try to speak, just rest. I've got you.”

Stubbornly, she fought against fatigue. Begging him with her eyes, she mouthed, “Father—?”

“I don't know...” he replied uncertainly, then started as Bathsheba's voice spoke in his mind.

_Not now, Kakashi. She's too weak. You know what to do._

He gazed down into the telepath's beautiful eyes. He did, indeed, know what to do.

“Sorry about this, love, but you have to rest.”

Once more, Kakashi's Sharingan began to spin, the hypnotic power of the black-flecked iris sending the kunoichi into a deep, dreamless sleep. Lifting her slightly, the Copy Ninja gathered his feet underneath him, rising to a standing position. She seemed so small and defenseless, head tucked under his chin. He'd come so close to losing her...

Shying away from that terrible thought, he looked down at Enya and Bathsheba, still crouched on the muddy ground. He fixed the feline with a somber gaze.

“All right. Tell me.”

XXX

When jagged rents appeared in the edges of Soriya's chakra-infused wings, the Head of the Torture and Interrogation Unit truly began to worry. Rocked by the titanic collision of dark power and the feline's psychic barrier, Ibiki barely kept his footing. Squinting through a deluge of displaced river water, he searched the sky for the stubborn telepath anxiously. It wasn't until Kakashi moved with lightning speed to the water's edge, Bathsheba clinging to his back, that he spotted her.

His gut clenched in alarm. He hoped the Copy Ninja knew what he was doing. Soriya seemed barely conscious and they were about twenty seconds from heading over Ganji Falls without the proverbial barrel. He held a tense breath, watching the silver-haired shinobi's hands flicker through a sequence of signs. Let it out in relief as the jutsu took effect, significantly slowing the water's pull.

_Looks like he's got it under control._

Not entirely mollified, Ibiki frowned. Tsunade certainly hadn't foreseen this. How could she? How could any of them? Soriya had barely survived opening the fourth Gate two months ago. It was inconceivable she'd dare the Gate of Closing so soon. Yet she had, without a second thought. Thankfully, no one had died. At least, he fervently hoped no one had died.

Uneasily, his eyes traced a path downstream. Kakashi and Soriya had long since vanished over the drop.

_Troublesome child._

When had she become so powerful?

The violent destruction of his shadow clone had been an unpleasant surprise. For Akira Kanzin as well, Ibiki suspected. From what Kakashi had told him, and the slight smile he'd glimpsed on the psych-nin's face when the clone took aim, Ibiki knew the man truly intended to die. Having seen the empath's power, so obviously twisted and out of control, the scarred shinobi reluctantly concluded assassination was the most prudent course, despite Soriya's wishes to the contrary. And so, he had made the attempt.

Unfortunately, they had all underestimated the kunoichi's determination.

Grimly, he wondered if the psych-nin would have been able to force Soriya to kill him. The Hokage had specifically instructed Ibiki not to let that happen. Such an act might destroy the kunoichi emotionally—a result to be avoided at all costs. For that same reason, she'd also ordered him not to allow Kakashi to eliminate the psych-nin. It might lead to a confrontation between the Copy Ninja and Soriya—a confrontation whose outcome was impossible to predict and which might not be to anyone's liking.

Wisely, Tsunade chose not to pit them against each other. She wasn't deliberately cruel. Instead, she'd sent Ibiki. He snorted.

_And look how useful I've managed to be._

He'd gotten a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach the moment Bathsheba had appeared on the Copy Ninja's shoulder. It explained much, including the temporary paralysis that had come over him.

_Those damn cats!_

Although he knew they wielded considerable power between them, the scarred shinobi had mixed feelings whenever the mercurial felines showed up. Like most cats, they were capricious and unreliable—traits that Ibiki did not find endearing. Soriya had gained a limited ability to coerce them into assisting with the occasional task, but mostly, they did as they pleased. It was virtually impossible to formulate a plan of action dependent upon their cooperation. The few times he'd allowed her to call them during training, they'd proven more hindrance than help. Easily bored, they often wandered off the moment they were needed. Else, they managed to be underfoot right when you wanted them out of the way. Ibiki secretly suspected the enigmatic felines did it just to annoy him.

_I'm getting too old for this,_ he thought wearily, not for the first time. Watching the oddly silent battle of wills taking place above the churning river, Ibiki pondered the options. Without turning, he spoke.

“Enya. How is he?”

The medic-nin looked up from Takeo's still form. “He's unconscious. No permanent damage probably, although the crossbow bolt did a number on his leg. He came close to bleeding out.”

“Yuichigo?”

“I left him under a tree over that way,” Enya indicated a stand of mostly undamaged trees on the other side of the clearing. “Soriya used a mesmerization jutsu on him. He should be coming around any time now.”

“Check him.”

The medic-nin nodded, rising to his feet. Before he could take a step, a groan sounded from just inside the tree line. Groggily, Yuichigo sat up, holding a hand to his head. Suddenly, Bathsheba materialized in the air beside Enya.

“Soriya needs you!” the feline's green eyes were wide, pupils dilated. Her tail lashed the air in agitation. “Come quickly!”

Blue eyes grazed Ibiki's face, then the medic-nin turned, sprinting after the diminutive cat as she sped toward the cliff's edge. The scarred shinobi watched them a few moments, before turning his attention back to the ongoing contest above the river.

Poised above the water, Ra and Kanzin stood, merely staring at each other. Ibiki thought he saw the older man's lips move slightly, but couldn't make out what was said over the roar of the waterfall. Ra's bristling fur had smoothed and his ears no longer lay flat against his wedged head. Idly, Ibiki wondered what the psych-nin made of the over-protective feline. Behind him, the sound of staggering footsteps approached.

“Yuichigo. Are you well?”

The young man halted beside the older ninja, loosely holding the rat mask in one hand. He shrugged, running his fingers through spiky brown hair.

“Yeah. Just a slight headache.” He eyed the scarred shinobi reproachfully. “You know, a warning would have been nice. About what she is. It would've helped.”

“Doubtful,” Ibiki replied flatly.

Yuichigo stared at the unapologetic man's grim visage. Wisely, he chose not to take offense. Instead, he nodded toward the duo above the river.

“What's going on out there? And what happened to Takeo? Soriya get him, too? Ha! I guess I don't feel so bad, then. Where is she, anyway?”

“Soriya fought Takeo to a standstill, then ruptured the Gates of Pain and Closing to defend us when Kanzin attacked. The battle with Takeo sapped much of her strength, however, and she collapsed trying to incapacitate her father. She fell into the river. Kakashi went in after her and they were swept over the falls.

“Don't worry,” he admonished, seeing Yuichigo's shocked expression. “Nothing so simple as a drop over a waterfall could kill those two. I've no doubt they survived. In fact, Enya's already gone to treat Soriya. He left with Bathsheba, the other cat. Ra's out there, fighting Kanzin.” He indicated the small brown feline. “Oh, just so you know: the cats are on our side. Don't interfere with them.” Ibiki smiled inwardly at the rapidly changing expressions crossing the younger man's face. Awe gave way to confusion as dark brown eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“Er, did you say 'cats?'”

“Don't ask.”

XXX

Ra stared defiantly at the Darkness-swathed figure curiously eyeing him from atop a wave. This man was Soriya's father? The tip of the cat's long, slinky tail twitched, betraying excitement. Here stood the root cause of all her agony. Yet she wanted them to save him.

Humans were so strange. Who could possibly understand them? They didn't even understand themselves. Growling, he bared dagger-like canines.

_You hurt Soriya. I can't forgive that._

Akira Kanzin appraised the cat silently, gray eyes wide with interest. Dark tendrils probed the invisible barrier for weaknesses. They found none. After a moment, he ventured, “You are powerful. Who summoned you?”

_Soriya wants us to save you._

Golden eyes narrowed, piercing the psych-nin.

_But you and I both know that's not possible._

The dark-haired man's shoulders slumped wearily.

“Yes.”

_Why haven't you told her you are dying?_

Akira's eyes widened in surprise. His hold on the water faltered, dropping him toward the rushing surface of the river. Coolly, Ra watched the tightening of the man's jaw as he concentrated, commanding the element to bear him aloft once more. Sweat poured down his face. The aura of Darkness seemed thinner, less ominous.

Ra flicked an ear in annoyance.

_Why are humans so difficult? You should have told her. It would help her understand._

Kanzin laughed. “Tell her what? That this taint—this shadow—is gradually devouring me from within? That soon, my body will be nothing more than a husk? A chaotic mass of anger, pain, and misery? How, pray tell, would that help her?” He looked away. “It's bad enough she's seen me like this. I just want it to end before I kill somebody. Somebody else,” he amended grimly.

Ra lifted a paw, idly examining razor-sharp claws.

_I could kill you, I suppose, but that would only cause Soriya more pain._

Sheathing them, he straightened, pinning the psych-nin with golden eyes.

_Besides, it is unnecessary. You are dying as we speak. Breaching the Gates was foolish. The Darkness within you hungers. You lack the control needed to prevent it from draining you dry. You have hastened your own death._

Somberly, Akira returned the feline's unwavering gaze.

“That was my intention. I only wish Soriya hadn't stopped Ibiki. I would have preferred a quicker end. This is beginning to hurt,” he confessed, face paling. He dropped closer to the water's surface. Quietly, in a voice that betrayed his fear, the psych-nin asked, “Please. Can you tell me...is she okay? I saw Kakashi go to her, but then they went over the falls...”

_She has seriously depleted her power, but she lives. You should be more concerned with yourself at the moment. Bathsheba and I are unable to do as Soriya wishes and separate the Darkness from you. Unlike her situation, these emotions and memories have long been a part of you; they are inextricably woven into your psyche. Had we come upon you twenty-five years ago..._

_But it matters little now. However, if you allow it, perhaps we can ease your pain._

Golden eyes blinked slowly.

_Doing so will, of course, hasten your demise. I make this offer for Soriya's sake only. Choose._

He sat perfectly still, awaiting the psych-nin's decision.

Akira held the feline's steady gaze. Finally, he closed weary eyes, nodding gravely.

“All right. Do what you can. For Soriya's sake.” He hesitated, then asked, “Will it hurt?”

Ra stared at the man's lined face. His answer was a mere whisper in the mind.

_Only the heart._

XXX

He had to hurry. Clutching the kunoichi's body tightly, Kakashi summoned chakra, vanishing within a swirl of leaves. He reappeared just inside the tree line, at the spot where Ibiki's shadow clone had been concealed. Soriya's discarded crossbow lay in the dirt where it had fallen. Quickly scanning the area, the Copy Ninja realized everyone, save Takeo and Enya, gathered at the river's edge. Was he too late?

Bathsheba appeared near the group, hovering at shoulder height above the muddy ground. He steeled himself as she turned jade-green eyes on him.

_Bring her, Kakashi. She needs to say goodbye._

He swallowed, moving forward with forced, steady steps. She hadn't wanted it to end like this, he knew. Would she be able to bear it?

But the feline was right. Soriya needed to say goodbye to her father. He only hoped her self-destructive rage would die with him. The pain, she would always carry.

Ibiki and Yuichigo moved back as he neared, allowing them the illusion of privacy. Slowly, he knelt beside the dying psych-nin. The man jerked and trembled, deep in the throes of chakra drain. Shadows rimmed the feverish gray eyes, mere vestiges of the empath's once formidable power. Gently lowering the kunoichi to the ground, the Copy Ninja glanced up at Morino's impassive face.

“He chose this,” Ibiki stated blandly, answering the unspoken question. His tone implied agreement with the decision. “The Darkness is killing him. They've agreed to purge him of it.” The scarred shinobi's gaze drifted to Soriya's face. Kakashi saw pity in the black eyes. “He will not survive it.”

Suddenly, Akira gasped, turning dilated eyes to the Copy Ninja.

“B-Better to die...free from this...” he shook violently a moment, breath rasping in his lungs. “Want to...see my daughter...”

Bathsheba settled on the ground beside the psych-nin's left ear. Nudging Ra lightly with her triangular head, she ran a whiskered cheek along the underside of his jaw. A silent communication passed between them. Green eyes fixed on Kakashi.

“I must wake her. It is almost finished.”

Almost before the feline finished speaking, Soriya began to stir, groaning slightly. Kakashi stroked a strand of damp hair back from her face.

“Soriya.”

Slowly, she opened exhausted eyes, blinking up at him in confusion. Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance. The storm had moved on.

“K-Kakashi?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

Sliding an arm around her shoulders, he raised the kunoichi slightly, propping her exhausted body against his thigh. Her head fell back, too heavy for the slender neck to support its weight. Shifting her closer, he placed a gentle hand under the redhead's chin, directing her attention toward the man on the ground. She inhaled sharply in recognition.

“F-Father?”

Gray eyes filled with tears as she took in his condition. It was only too obvious what was happening. _“Why?”_ she cried softly. “Why did you do it?”

Beads of sweat dotted Akira's forehead, trickling into the graying hair at his temples. Short of breath, he managed to keep his voice gentle.

“Don't cry...my dear.” A shuddering inhalation. Futilely, he struggled to raise his head. Abandoned the effort. “It is...for the best.”

“Best for whom?” she wailed, angry now. The anger gave her strength, as it always had. Reaching out, she gripped his right hand with unsteady fingers. It shook alarmingly in her weakened grasp, sending tremors up the length of her arm. Stormy gray orbs dilated, assessing the internal damage.

“Don't!” he gasped, trying to draw back his hand. He lacked the strength to pull away from her. “You can do...nothing. Don't risk...yourself. Kakashi!” he appealed to the Copy Ninja, fear in his eyes.

Gravely, the silver-haired shinobi met the psych-nin's gaze. He knew what the man was asking him to do. Inwardly sighing, he laid a hand over the kunoichi's white-knuckled fingers.

“Soriya. You have to let go.” He hesitated, and when she made no move to release her grip, murmured softly, “Remember your promise.”

She stiffened, fingers tightening minutely under the press of his hand. Kakashi felt, rather than saw, the stubborn clenching of her jaw. Well, if she was going to be difficult...

“Suki, please.” _I need you._

He was not above using their relationship. Not if it kept her alive. He recalled Enya's solemn advice: _use any hold you have on her._ He would make her see reason, even if he had to forcibly separate her from Akira.

Gritting his teeth, the Copy Ninja prepared to do just that. Activating the Sharingan, he took her chin in his hand. Before he could snare her in his gaze, the kunoichi sagged, defeated, against his chest. Gray returned to her eyes as the pupils shrank once more. Slowly, though he knew it pained her to do so, she released the dying man's hand.

“Damn you, anyway.” The grief in her tone made Kakashi's heart ache. He was not entirely certain if she intended the epithet for him or for her father. The almost inaudible, “And damn me, too,” hurt him far worse. Closing mismatched eyes, he hugged her tightly.

Not quite willing to surrender all hope, Soriya turned to Bathsheba and Ra. The enigmatic felines had not moved, sitting like silent sentinels at the dying man's head.

“Please,” she begged, “Can't you do something?”

“We are sorry, Soriya.” The remorse in Bathsheba's voice was genuine. “Not even Ra and I can fully separate your father from the Darkness that entangles him. Not and spare his life.” The feline bowed her wedged head. “He has chosen to be free. Do you understand? Say your goodbyes. It will not be long, now.”

The kunoichi's mouth worked soundlessly, as if in denial. Abruptly, she crumpled in on herself, shoulders hunched and miserable. Tears overflowed, spilling down her wan cheeks. Inhaling a tremulous breath, Soriya gazed down at the man dying in front of her.

Her father. Yet another person she couldn't save.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered brokenly. “I wanted... I really thought...I could save you.”

Instead of answering, Akira struggled to raise a shaking hand to her face. With supreme effort, he traced a finger slowly down her cheek, following the track of a teardrop. The exertion sapped the last of the psych-nin's fading energy and his hand fell, twitching, back to his side. She watched as the shadows in his eyes receded for the last time, leaving behind only a gentle sorrow...and... _love?_ The thought only made her tears flow faster.

“Smile...for me...Suki. Please.” Words seemed to come harder now. Blearily, he tried to focus on her face. “So like...your mother...when you smile...” A shallow breath. Another.

“Kurumi...”

Silence.

Soriya stared numbly as the last of the light left his eyes.

_It wasn't supposed to end like this._

She couldn't look away from his face. She wanted to scream. To cry. To rage at him for leaving her, the way everyone she loved always did.

In the end, she did none of those things. Because he was _smiling._

She could think of nothing to say.

She was almost glad when Kakashi spoke her name. Willingly, she gave herself up to him and the lazy spin of his Sharingan. It would be a relief not to feel anything for awhile.

_Peace is for the dead..._

_Father..._


	14. Chapter 14

The Hokage herself met them at the main gates of the village, a group of medical corpsmen and two stretchers in tow. At her gesture, Ibiki laid Takeo on one of them, indicating Yuichigo should accompany the injured shinobi to the hospital. Before the rat-masked operative could comply, Tsunade spoke.

“Yuichigo.”

He turned. “Hokage.”

“I would speak with you regarding your current placement in ANBU. Come to my office after you receive medical clearance.” She regarded him pointedly. “I rely on your discretion regarding what you have witnessed. I'm sure you understand.”

He bowed. “Hokage.”

She waved him onward, and the corpsmen retreated into the bowels of the village with the stretcher. Amber eyes turned to regard the Head of the Torture and Interrogation Unit.

“Will he be suitable, do you think?”

Ibiki shrugged. “Only one way to know for sure. But, yes, I believe so.”

“Good. Now then...”

She focused her attention on the silver-haired shinobi and the unconscious woman held protectively in his arms. On the return trip, Kakashi had steadfastly refused all offers of assistance, preferring to transport Soriya himself. The Hokage waved the last two corpsmen over. Carefully, the Copy Ninja bent, placing the redhead on the stretcher. Tsunade watched as he brushed a hand over the kunoichi's bruised cheek, dark eye lingering on her face.

After a moment, he straightened, offering Tsunade his customary placid gaze. Because she knew him well, she discerned the slight tension in his deceptively relaxed stance, although she doubted it was apparent to anyone else. For once, he had neglected to return his hands to his pockets. She decided to be amused, rather than annoyed.

“Relax,” she told him. “You did well. The mission has been completed successfully.”

He scrutinized her shrewdly. “All of it?” he prodded.

“All. And you can stop looking at me like that. I'm not going to have her killed,” Tsunade snapped waspishly. So much for amusement. In a somewhat milder tone, she added, “Take her to the hospital, then come see me. I want a full report.”

Staring down at the unconscious kunoichi, she called over her shoulder, “Enya. Accompany Kakashi to the hospital. See to Soriya's care personally. I'll be along later to tend to Takeo.” Quietly, she added, “You did excellent work. As expected.”

The blue-eyed medic-nin paused in surprise. After a moment, he offered a solemn bow to the blonde woman's back.

“Hokage. Forgive me.”

Tsunade closed amber eyes. A slight smile lifted the corners of her lips. “Unnecessary,” she replied softly, dismissing him with a wave.

She turned to Ibiki.

“I'll take your report now. In my office,” she said, before vanishing amidst a swirl of leaves. Seconds later, the scarred shinobi followed, leaving Enya, Kakashi, and the corpsmen to make their way to the hospital, an unusual honor guard for the woman lying on the stretcher between them.

XXX

Stark white light. Antiseptic smell.

It took Soriya a moment to realize she was staring at a ceiling. In a hospital. Where she appeared to be wearing a hideous, mauve-colored hospital gown. Grimacing, she looked around, trying to focus on objects in the room. The figure in the corner chair noticed the small movement.

“It's about time,” the Copy Ninja's voice drawled lazily. “I was starting to think you were never going to come around. You're beginning to make a habit of this,” he chided.

“How long?” she asked, or tried to. It came out sounding more like a croak.

Kakashi seemed to understand anyway. Pocketing his reading material, he leaned forward, pouring water into a cup from the pitcher beside the bed. Sliding an arm behind the kunoichi, he helped her struggle to a semi-reclined position against the pillows, before offering her the drink. She accepted gratefully, pleased to note her hands seemed only slightly shaky.

“Three days,” he replied quietly.

The liquid felt cool and soothing as it slid down her parched throat. She choked, eyes widening in surprise.

“Three _days?”_

The Copy Ninja nodded. “Enya said you really scorched the chakra network, bursting through the fifth Gate like you did. It's fortunate Bathsheba was there. He's not sure he could have resealed the Gate of Closing without her help.” _I almost lost you._

She started at the thought. She knew it had come from the man sitting patiently at her bedside. Surreptitiously, she checked to make sure they weren't touching. He noticed.

“What's wrong?”

Soriya stared at him, trying to concentrate. Nothing. Maybe she'd imagined it?

“Never mind. It's nothing. Just...I'm sorry for making you worry.” Gray eyes turned downward.

“Kakashi...”

He waited.

“About my father...”

He seemed to know what she wanted to ask.

“We brought him back to the house where he'd been staying. Ibiki opened the earth under the weeping willow. We buried him beside your mother and his brother.”

“He would've wanted that,” she replied softly. “Thank you.”

“I brought you this,” Kakashi added, taking a dark metal bracelet from his vest pocket. “I thought you'd want to have it.” He handed the object to Soriya, who took it mutely. She swallowed hard, then slid the cool metal onto her wrist. Her fingertips traced over the stylized “K” on the band.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. She felt only a gentle sorrow—the anger she'd nurtured for so long eluded her, like wisps of smoke blown away on the wind. _His last gift,_ she thought, smiling sadly. She looked up to meet Kakashi's sympathetic gaze.

He offered, “When you're up to it, we'll go pay our respects. I never got to meet your mother, after all. You'll want the photos from the house, too. We didn't take the time to pack them.” A thought occurred to him.

“There's someone I think you should meet. An old woman by the name of Ayame Ito. She knew your father. I think she'd enjoy talking to you, and someone should let her know Akira won't be visiting anymore.”

The kunoichi was silent, staring down at the cup cradled between her palms. She flexed her right wrist; the blue-black metal of the bracelet gleamed in the light. After a moment, she spoke slowly, hesitantly, “There's something else I need to do first.” She looked up at him. “Will you...will you come with me to the memorial stone? I have to tell Emiko...Kaito...” She didn't have the words.

“I'll come,” the Copy Ninja agreed, “but first, you should go see Yori and Izumi. They've been frantic. Yori's been here every day since we brought you back, but he doesn't like to leave Izumi and the children for too long.”

She smiled. “I can't wait to see them.”

A knock sounded on the door before it opened. Takeo, hobbling on crutches, leaned his head into the room.

“Well, well... Look who's finally awake,” he remarked. “Really, Soriya, I know I gave you a thrashing, but don't you think it's time you got out of bed? The Hokage's got work for us. We don't have time for you to lie around sleeping.”

The glint of humor in the almond-shaped eyes took the sting out of the words. Soriya rolled her eyes, offering him a rude gesture with her finger.

“She thinks I'm number one.” Slyly, Takeo's gaze slid over to the Copy Ninja, who eyed him lazily.

Soriya was not fooled for a second. She could feel the sudden tension in him, although it was not outwardly apparent from his relaxed posture. The sooner they had that conversation, the better. Knowing Takeo, he probably found it amusing to push Kakashi's buttons.

She sighed irritably. _Men!_

“Get in here and sit down before you fall down, you big idiot,” she glanced pointedly at the dark-haired shinobi's left thigh. “How's the leg?”

“Sorry, can't stay,” he declined breezily. “I just wanted to see if you were still alive in here. The leg's okay, but you know Enya. He's such a mother hen. And the Hokage is backing him up, of course. She says I have to use these damn things for the rest of the week. What a pain.”

“That's too bad,” she offered, insincerely.

He snorted. “Yeah. By the way, Yuichigo's going to be training with us from now on. Ibiki-sensei's orders. Poor guy. He doesn't know what he's in for. The fool thinks being assigned to work with you is some kind of promotion. You must've really put the whammie on him out there. Way to go.”

Soriya made a face. “Thanks a lot.” She added pertly, “At least I won't get bored, fighting you all the time. He's tougher than you think, Takeo.”

“He'll have to be. I don't know the details, but I get the feeling our next mission has something to do with the upcoming summit.”

“Intelligence gathering, most like,” she guessed, shrugging.

“Probably.” Offhandedly, he added, “The Hokage mentioned something about red roses. Does that mean anything to you?”

Soriya's face paled. At her expression, Kakashi sat forward in his chair, resting a hand on her arm. She flinched at the sudden contact and his hand tightened.

“Soriya, what is it?”

“Sorry. I'm okay.” She shook her head. “It's just—did she say 'the Crimson Rose?'”

Takeo considered a moment, black eyes narrowing at the consternation on her face.

“Maybe. What does it mean?”

Soriya focused on her lap, gray eyes shadowed and unreadable. In a low voice, she replied, “I can't tell you. Not yet. I have to speak to the Hokage. I'm just not sure...” _If I'm ready,_ she wanted to add, but didn't. She wasn't sure if she'd ever be ready again. And Kakashi... If she agreed to do it, what would he say? Would he be able to handle it? Things had been much simpler five years ago.

“Whatever,” Takeo shrugged, unconcerned. “I'm not going to stand here and harass you about it. See, I'm working on 'learning to let go.'” Balancing on the crutches, he put finger quotes around the catchphrase.

Though the response was flippant, Soriya caught the slight regret in his tone. She looked up, offering him a sad smile. “I'm glad to hear that, Takeo. I'll see you around.”

“Yeah.”

He retreated from the room, letting the door close behind him.

Into the silence, Soriya exhaled, then mused softly, “Well, that went better than expected.” She eyed the Copy Ninja, who was once again leaning back in his chair. She noticed he had taken out his naughty book again, though judging by the lack of movement in the single dark eye, he wasn't actually reading it. She sighed.

“About Takeo...” she began.

“You don't have to tell me. It's not really my business.” Cool. Calm. Collected. _Liar._

“Listen to me. You have to understand...” She swallowed. How to say it? “I wronged him, Kakashi. Years ago. That damned class assignment...” She hesitated, then said it in a rush, “Ipretendedtobesomeonehecaredfor—toteachhimalesson,” She paused for breath, then added, “the big jerk.”

The Copy Ninja looked at her steadily. “I see.”

“But that's not the worst part.” Long red hair swung forward to hide her face. Soriya knew it had been totally selfish of her to use Takeo simply because she was angry she couldn't have Kakashi. She'd behaved like a spoiled child denied a favorite toy. It was an act she truly regretted, not for the act itself, but for the pain she'd unwittingly inflicted on the raven-haired shinobi.

“I used him, Kakashi. I was stupid. Stupid, drunk, and angry, all because I saw you leaving a bar with some woman. I just didn't think. Didn't stop to consider Takeo's feelings at all. It was cruel of me to take advantage of him. Especially since the only man I've ever really wanted was you,” she confessed starkly, meeting his gaze. She thought she saw emotion flicker in the dark eye, then the slant of his brow smoothed.

“Feel better?” he asked, rising from the chair to press in close to her on the narrow bed. Taking the cup of water from her, he set it on the bedside table.

Her breathing quickened. “Uh, now that you mention it...”

He reached for her face, drawing his lower mask down with his free hand.

“Mmm?”

She stared up at him with wide eyes. He was so close, she could feel his breath on her cheek.

“Yeah,” she whispered, lips parting in anticipation.

“Good,” he responded, “Now, be quiet.”

He didn't give her a chance to argue. Not that she would have wanted to.

XXX

A week later, Soriya set off to visit her father's grave. She planned to meet with Ayame Ito on the return trip. Kakashi met her at the main gate—late as usual, although only by twenty minutes this time. He claimed he was working on getting it down to fifteen, but Soriya wasn't holding her breath. She cut him some slack, touched that the notoriously tardy ninja would make the effort just for her.

_Some things never change..._

Then she would stare at him covetously when he wasn't looking.

_But thank the gods for the things that do._

They took the trip out to the Ganji in slow, easy stages. Although Soriya had been medically cleared, Enya warned her not to overdo it. Prudently, she'd resisted the urge to use her power since being hospitalized, though occasionally, random thoughts popped into her head unbidden. Sometimes, the kunoichi swore she was 'hearing' the inner musings of people in close proximity, particularly if she knew them well. It seemed to occur most frequently with Kakashi, though once it had even happened with Ibiki-sensei. He'd been thinking “troublesome child” when he visited her hospital room. Looking up at his stern visage, knowing it hid great concern, she'd cheekily asked if she could call him “Pops.”

The look on his face had been priceless.

She hadn't mentioned the odd ability to anyone yet. She hoped it would fade with time—a leftover side effect of rupturing the Gate of Closing. She had enough trouble blocking out unwanted emotions from the people around her, let alone thoughts.

Although the telepath had to admit, it had been highly entertaining—in more ways than one—to surprise Kakashi by acting on some of the licentious things she'd caught him thinking. Truly, the man possessed an active imagination! Must be all that reading.

She was sure he'd catch on to her little game eventually. The possibilities made her toes curl. Maybe retaining such an ability wouldn't be so bad...

She smiled.

“Something amusing?” The Copy Ninja quirked a curious brow at her expression.

“Oh, just thinking pleasant thoughts,” she told him, “for a change. Come on!” she tossed over her shoulder, loping ahead. “My folks are waiting on us. Don't be a slowpoke!”

Smiling behind his mask, Kakashi leapt to follow.

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who read and offered kudos for this story! It was my very first fanfiction, started waaayy back in 2008, and took me about 2 years to finish. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Please forgive the changes I made in some of the characters and their relationships. I did this for my own convenience. The biggest one was probably aging Ibiki Morino by a couple of decades. I wanted someone imposing (and older than Kakashi) as Soriya's mentor/father figure, and Ibiki's character design and back story are just so cool! Genma is also a bit OOC, because I needed a hot shinobi to hit on Soriya so she could freak out and lose her shit early on, and he seemed like the best prospect. Sorry, Genma! xD
> 
> Shippuden hadn't ended by the time I finished this fic, so I pretty much avoided the whole Akatsuki plot line, and only made oblique references to the Sasuke/Itachi drama. I wasn't too crazy about the whole Madara/Kaguya arc, tbh, but I'm glad Itachi had a good reason for what he did. I always thought he really loved his little brother, so I was happy that turned out to be true.
> 
> I started work on a sequel to The Broken Weapon ten years ago. Even have 9 chapters written--it focuses largely around the upcoming Summit of the 5 Great Nations and Soriya's role as the Crimson Rose--but it had so many characters I just sort of lost track of all of them and the political maneuvering to boot. Since I've caught up to Mashima's 100YQ manga, I've decided to try to pick it back up and see if I can finish it this time, while I wait for more NaLu story inspiration to strike. (Please check out my Fairy Tail stories, beginning with Findings and Leavings if you like.)
> 
> The sequel is called The Heart's Revenge, so please wish me luck that I can finish it this time! I really enjoyed Kakashi as a rule-of-cool character, but never liked any of the traditional fanfic pairings with him among Kishimoto's cast. I'm looking forward to writing about him with Soriya again, and also Takeo and Yuichigo. Especially Takeo, as he's one of my favorites. His psychology is so interesting to me!
> 
> As a side note, Bathsheba and Ra are Abyssinian cats, and served as my deus ex machina devices. I used to have a ruddy Abyssinian and he was very diva-like and super smart! Also bossy, but I adored him. He died of old age many, many years ago, but Ra is based on him in a lot of ways. I had a lot of fun writing the scenes where the cats appeared and I hope you were at least a little amused by them!
> 
> Thanks again for reading, and until next time...


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